


At Dead of Night

by MelanieQuinlan



Series: A New Life [2]
Category: Pet Shop Boys
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, M/M, Pop music, RPF, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanieQuinlan/pseuds/MelanieQuinlan
Summary: It's 1982 and both Neil and Chris have returned to London. They both have a crush on each other but neither is going to admitt it. Complications, hot fantasies and a lot of fluff.
Relationships: Chris Lowe/Neil Tennant
Series: A New Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192067
Kudos: 7





	At Dead of Night

1982 had started just like 1981 had ended: with too much rain, grey skies and a fierce wind which chilled everyone to the bone as soon as they stepped outside. It was the first week of January, another rainy Friday evening and Chris was hurrying across the street to get to the Chelsea Potter on King’s Road.

Even though the friend he had visited practically lived just around the corner, Chris was soaked to the skin by the time he finally entered the pub. Of course, he’d forgotten to take an umbrella – he really hated them – and had also refused Neil’s offer to lend him one. The hood of his jacket had stood no real chance in protecting him against the weather as the rain was coming down once more in heavy curtains.

Chris stopped a moment while the door fell shut behind him, shook some water from his jacket and brushed his wet hair from his forehead. He glanced at his watch. A few minutes to 10 o’clock. He grinned. That meant he had plenty of time for a pint or two.

Chris made his way to the bar and while he waited for his drink, scanned the room and soon spotted his sister on a table tugged into a small corner near one of the windows. Vicky had come down with him from Blackpool and seemed determined to spend some time with him in London. Not that he minded, Chris had always enjoyed his sister’s company. She was fun to be around, and it didn’t bother him that things were a bit crowded in his tiny bed-sit. He’d rather have a companion than plenty of space. That thought made him remember that strange Christmas Eve where he’d dragged Neil with him to Blackpool, to his parent’s home to spare his friend a solitary holiday.

“It’s so like Neil to pick the worst possible time for that row with his parents,” Chris mused. “To come out to them the day before Christmas took nerve. Well, coming out to your parents always takes nerve, I suppose, but anyway…”

Chris really wasn’t thinking about Neil’s accidental coming out or his strained relationship with his father, no Chris was thinking about Neil sleeping on the sofa only an arm’s length away from his own bed, in his childhood bedroom no less. He was thinking about how Neil had looked so much younger first thing in the morning without his dreadful glasses and his curly hair standing on end.

Chris shook his head, irritated by his train of thoughts and gratefully took his pint from the barkeep, paid and then walked over to Vicky and sat sown on a chair opposite her.

“Hi ya,” he said and grinned as she jumped slightly and glared at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she snapped but then her features softened, and she grinned as well. “I see you’ve punished yourself already, getting yourself soaking wet like that.”

Chris’ only reply was to lift his eyebrows as he took a deep drink from his pint. He then wiped the foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand and leaned back in his chair, comfortable now in the slightly overheated room.

“And?” Vicky asked, a look of excitement and curiosity on her face. “Did you tell him?”

Chris was thankful he had finished drinking as his sister’s question was choking him. Had he had his mouth full of liquid he was certain he would’ve made a mess by spitting it back out. And that would’ve been a real shame. He quite liked his pint.

“What do you mean?” He asked innocently, acting as if he had no clue what she was on about.

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! You bloody well know what I mean!”  
Chris stared at her for a moment, then averted his eyes and slowly sipped his beer again. Then he sighed.

“And what exactly should I’ve told him?” He muttered quietly, uneasy to be discussing his feelings. He hated things like that: introspection, self-analysis, reflection. Even more than he hated umbrellas.

“What you told me, silly,” Vicky replied smugly and somehow her good intentions grated on his nerves.

“Oh yeah?” He snapped, almost snarling. “Like what? Go there and say: ‘Oh by the way Neil, I think you’re cute, I really like your eyes, I might even have a crush on you, so why don’t we go to your bedroom?’ Brilliant idea, sister, just brilliant! It doesn’t work like that,” he concluded, his anger gone. He rubbed his eyes and looked defeated when he spoke again: “We’re mates. I can’t tell him things like that. I would ruin everything.”

Vicky crossed her arms in front of her chest and gazed at her brother thoughtfully. Her nose wrinkled in concentration as she tried to get to the bottom of this.

“But you haven’t changed your mind about him?” She finally asked hesitantly.

Chris shook his head and looked downright miserable as he answered: “No, I haven’t. I still… feel that way about Neil.” When he caught his sister’s critical glance, he quickly held up his hands. “Alright, alright. I admit it. I have a crush on him. A bad one. It got worse since Christmas. I can’t get him out of my head. Oh, for fuck’s sake, I might even be a little in love with him!”

Vicky grinned and looked like she wanted to say something like a little! but wisely enough kept her mouth shut. For the moment at least. Then she asked: “Then why can’t you tell him? It’s not like hates gays or something!”

Chris snorted and drank the rest of this pint.

“You’ll have to get me another one,” he announced. “If we’re really having this bloody discussion, I’d rather not be completely sober.”

Vicky grinned and immediately got to her feet. “Deal!”

“I feared you were going to say that,” Chris grumbled but Vicky just shot him a sweet smile and disappeared into the crowd. She returned a few minutes later with another pint of larger for Chris and a half pint of Cider for herself.

“So?” She prompted when she had settled back down. “Why can’t you tell him?”

Chris said nothing for a long moment and only turned the glass between his fingers. Then he looked up and shrugged his shoulders in an almost apologetic gesture.

“You know, Neil’s not one of those easy-going club kids or scene queens you can just chat up and for whom having sex and… and things isn’t a big deal. He’s…complicated. I fear I’d scare him with what I could say. And I don’t want to lose his friendship.”

Vicky nodded slowly. “He means a great deal to you, doesn’t he?” She asked softly, although the way she said it made it sound more like a statement than a question.

Chris nodded. He felt stupid, embarrassed and that annoyed him. There really was nothing he had to feel embarrassed about.  
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah, he does. It’s odd really, isn’t it? I mean, I just know him for a couple of months and he’s so different from everybody else I hang around with, the complete opposite and… Oh, I don’t know!”

Chris threw up his hands in the air, looking both helpless and upset. Vicky took a long drink of her cider and watched her brother carefully. It had been quite a while since someone had affected him the way Neil seemed to do.

“So, let me get this straight,” she began as she put her glass back down. “You fancy him.” Chris gave a curt little nod. “You care about him and might even be in love with him.” Another small nod. “But you don’t want to scare him away because you value his friendship?” A third nod.

Vicky took a deep breath and then went on: “From what you’ve told me, I can guess he’s complicated. I mean, he’s catholic and was sort of religious and had a girlfriend until recently. Of course, I wouldn’t know how he fells about casual sex, if he finds the thought repulsive or scary of whatever but I think that’s really beside the point. You want more than just a quick fuck from him, don’t you?”

Chris looked mortified and his cheeks turned quite red. “Vic,” he exclaimed and quickly looked around to make certain they hadn’t been overheard.

“What?” Vicky replied impatiently. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Chris nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, but…”

Vicky shut him up by speaking over his protest. “Then don’t you think that if you took your time to explain all this to Neil that he’d listen? And if you gave him the choice to accept or refuse that he’d still be your friend in the end?”

Chris didn’t reply and just scowled at his sister but secretly had to admit that she had a point. Oh, damn that woman, she usually had a point! She just knew him too well.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

When Chris had left, Neil had gone back into his living room. His steps had let him straight to the window and he had peered through a crack in the curtains to watch Chris step out onto the street. He didn’t really know why he was doing it but somehow, he had to catch another glimpse of his friend.

Neil was careful not to be seen but he needn’t have worried as Chris didn’t look back or up at his window and only hunched his shoulders as he put the hood of his jacket over his head and hurried across the road and out of sight. He was meeting his sister in a pub just down the road and even though Neil had liked Vicky well enough when they had met briefly over Christmas, he had declined the offer to join them. Neil didn’t really feel like going out, even if it was only to the nearest pub. He was tired and on edge and had decided to go to bed early. Catch some sleep.

“Yeah, as if you’re likely to get some,” he thought morosely and continued to stare out of the window even though Chris was long gone. “You’ll just think too much about… things and end up knackered in the morning.”

He didn’t dare specifying the things he most likely would end up thinking about when the lights went out in his tiny bedroom and his head hit the pillow. Neil pretended he was mostly concerned with his father’s reaction to his involuntary coming out but in truth that had been pushed to the back of his head. It was other things that kept him from falling asleep these days, things which had a lot to do with that guy who had just left. Chris.  
Neil sighed softly and closed his eyes, then opened them wide a second later in shocked surprise. A realization had just hit him. He hadn’t turned down the offer to join Chris and Vicky for a drink because he was tired. Not really. He had refused because in truth he had wanted to spend some more time with Chris. Alone.

He exhaled sharply, feeling frustrated without daring to wonder why. He placed one hand against the dark windowpane. It chilled him, made him shiver slightly so he pulled his hand away and left his post behind the curtain. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed just how cold his living room had become. It certainly had seemed warmer when Chris had been there.

“Oh, don’t be a complete fool,” Neil told himself off. “You were just too busy talking and discussing that piece of music he wrote for you to take notice!”

With a small sigh he sat down on the sofa and stared into the space before him. He was at a loss what to do next. Watching TV seemed like a waste of time what would make him stay up late, he wasn’t in the mood for reading and he couldn’t even bring himself to get up and pick up his battered old guitar and his notebook from the bedroom. Normally thinking up melodies and lyrics never failed to excite him, to captivate him or to soothe him when nothing else could take his mind off whatever worries he had. But lately even that didn’t work like it had used to anymore.

When he’d met Chris and to his utmost astonishment and secret delight had discovered that Chris was interested in writing songs with him, Neil had soon realized just what he’d been lacking so far. When it came to songs, Chris was like the other half to his puzzle, complementing and completing his skill, his ideas. It was moments like that when Neil found himself wondering if that might be true for anything else than just writing songs.

Neil was fiercely determined to hang onto this rare gift that had walked into his life in the form of that extremely talented architecture student named Chris Lowe. He closed his eyes and let himself fall back against the headrest behind him. He let out a long breath that sounded a little like a moan – of regret maybe or of longing. He was scared that he wouldn’t be able to keep his feelings in check for much longer, would let his tongue slip and say something that would surely spoil the still new friendship between him and Chris.

“Just keep your mouth shut for once,” he muttered to himself and got up. It was no use sitting there brooding, he was going to bed. At least he’ll be warmer underneath the covers when he tried to sort out his confused thoughts then.

Neil went to the bathroom first and brushed his teeth. While he did so, he couldn’t help but stare at his reflection in the mirror. His stupid glasses really weren’t very fashionable, and he could most definitely need a haircut. Of course, he wasn’t able to afford one for a while longer, he had been more or less broke since he had bought that synthesizer last summer. He really wasn’t very handsome, he decided. Even his teeth were slightly crocked, which his father never failed to point out at the most embarrassing moments.

Not handsome, no, not at all. He was too skinny, geeky and just plain boring. “Shy and dry and verging on ugly,” a voice in his head pointed out smartly and he vowed that he would never write that line down or use it in a song. Nevertheless, the realisation stung. No one would even waste a glance at him when he walked past. No one had ever looked or smiled at him when he’d allowed either Jeff or now Chris to drag him along to some gay bar or club. No one. And certainly not Chris.

“If you hadn’t stumbled into him in that electronic shop by chance, he’d never taken notice of you. Especially not in one of those clubs,” Neil berated himself as he splashed water into his face and then dried himself off.

He had noticed what kind of guys Chris did look after and smiled at in the clubs, what kind of guys he seemed to find attractive. Most were as old or slightly younger as Chris was, never older, all had a nice physique – they looked sporty but not too much like a bodybuilder – and all seemed to wear the same: tight Levi’s 501 jeans and plain T-shirts.

All those dress codes and stereotypes of behaviour in the gay scene made Neil feel extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t want to wear black leather or checked shirts. He didn’t want to grow a moustache and he certainly didn’t want to hang around some park after dark, hoping for a quick grope or whatever in the bushes.

Neil slowly went over to his bedroom and quickly got changed into an old tracksuit he used for sleeping in. The radiator in the bedroom never seemed to work properly but his landlord had so far ignored his complains. He felt goose bumps creep over the skin on his arms and legs as he switched the lights off and climbed into bed, He lay down, suddenly wide awake, and pulled the blanket as tightly around him as possible.

No, he didn’t want to be part of all that, that scene of muscle-Mary’s, clones and fairies. He didn’t want to cruise, to go on the prowl or what other euphemisms there were for quick anonymous sex or one-night-stands. He just wanted someone to love. Someone who loved him in return.

Ah brilliant! Neil turned to one side and tried to cover his head with the pillow which only made him short of breath and even more irritable than before. That train of thoughts had led him back to Chris. Lately all trains of thoughts had the tendency to lead him back to Chris. Even more so since Chris had rescued him from a miserable Christmas by persuading his dad to pick them up and drive them to Blackpool, Chris’ home.

Neil tried to push the thought from his mind but like always didn’t succeed. Sharing the room with Chris had been nice and strangely exciting. Somehow, he had felt welcome there, safe, yet a little nervous as if anything had been possible and all sorts of crazy things could have happened. And then… his sister had come to drag him back home to Newcastle. Sure, he was glad that he had made up with his mother but still he couldn’t help wondering what he might have missed.

“Nothing! You’ve missed nothing,” Neil told himself for the 1000th time. “Chris has no idea how you feel about him and certainly doesn’t return your feelings. You’re not his type!” He turned to the other side and found himself staring at the wall. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he cursed loudly. “Why do I always have to fall for the wrong guys?”

There, he had admitted it at last, if only to himself. He was in love, in love with another bloke, in love with his new best friend, in love with Chris. In love! Bloody hell, if that had only been some kind of physical attraction it might have been easier to handle. Of course, physical attraction played a part in his tangled-up emotions, he really was quite desperately attracted to Chris, but there was more to it, much more. He’d been falling head over heels for that impossible person – who was always late, always forgot things, could be so unbearably lazy and sometimes acted as if he took nothing and nobody seriously. And judging by the way things had developed since Christmas; Neil feared that everything was going to get worse instead of better.

It really wasn’t his fault, he reasoned. Chris just looked too adorable when he smiled or laughed – which, unfortunately for Neil, he did an awful lot. Then of course there were his warm hazel eyes which always seemed to sparkle with some mischief.

Again, Neil tossed and turned until he finally decided on resting on his back. He was warm now, no, not just warm, he was uncomfortably hot and not only because he had tugged the blanket up to his chin. He closed his eyes and tried, really tried not to think about Chris. About how he looked, how he moved, how he laughed but of course just achieved the opposite. All he managed to think about was the fact that he liked Chris’s physique: he was slender but not skinny or gangly, had a flat belly and apparently no ounce of fat on his body.  
Neil also remembered that day in August when they had gone swimming together. He had tried hard not to get caught up in the discovery that Chris’ arms, chest and legs were covered in just the right amount of soft, dark hair. It had looked nice, not too fuzzy. His eyes flew open and he groaned in frustration. He had realized he wanted to touch the hair on Chris’ chest, run his palms over it just to feel if it really was as soft as he imagined.

Damn it, he wanted to touch, really touch Chris! He wanted it so badly. To run his fingers through Chris’ light brown hair, to stroke his cheek, to feel the stubble on his chin, to hug him close, to feel his firm body close to his own, to kiss him, to…

Neil closed his eyes again, squeezed them shut as if that would help to keep all of his longings at bay. But it was useless to keep fighting; the thoughts of Chris had done him in again. Neil felt quite helpless, overcome by his own emotions, his own fantasies like that. Chris… Neil’s body had developed a mind of its own and was not inclined to share his bad conscience or guilt – on the contrary, it had decided that it rather liked those thoughts of Chris.

Neil covered his face with both hands and rubbed at it fiercely for a moment, then let one hand drop away. It came to rest on the mattress next to his thigh, motionless for now. The other slowly moved away from his face, fingertips brushing over his own skin hesitantly. His fingers crawled down his throat and ghosted over his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut once more and shook his head softly. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to feel so lonely and desperate. He didn’t want to be alone in bed on a chilly night like that, with only his anxious fantasies for company.

He wanted…, wanted Chris to touch him. Oh God, yes! That would be a dream come true if Chris were to touch him like that. As if he cared. As if he felt anything more for him than friendship. In his mind’s eye Neil pictured Chris reaching out to touch him, running his fingertips gently over his face and down his chest all the while fixing him with that hazel stare to make certain Neil was okay with what he was doing.

Neil shuddered slightly and bit his lower lip to stifle a moan. “Yes! Please don’t stop touching me,” he begged silently in his thoughts and let his hand slip underneath his sweatshirt. The caresses of his fingers weren’t hesitant anymore, they were now aimed at giving his body a little of what his mind – and his heart – dreamed of Chris giving to him. Later he would possibly find it too frustrating but now he couldn’t care less. If he couldn’t have the love he dreamt of or any real affection, then he’d settle for a little bit of pleasure. At least tonight it would ease his mind, provide him a sense of relieve.

Neil ran his fingers over his chest for a little while longer, imagining it was Chris who was touching him instead. Neil’s other hand soon found its way to his chest and the touches got firmer, more demanding. More desperate. He started teasing his nipples to hardness and suddenly wondered how it would feel if Chris were to touch him there. What it would feel like to have Chris’ lips brush over his skin, to have Chris suck his hard nipples into his mouth. What it would feel like to kiss Chris, to feel Chris tongue slip into his mouth, teasing him, making him tremble and moan.

He wanted to reach out to touch Chris as well, to discover what would please his friend. How he had to touch him to make him tremble and moan as well. His breath was coming in shallow gasps by now and all the blood in his body seemed to have rushed down into his groin, making his dick stir and harden surprisingly quickly. With his eyes still tightly closed, Neil pushed down his pants and boxers just far enough to free his half-hard dick. His tongue flicked over his lips. He wanted Chris to kiss him, to teach him everything he needed to know about kissing guys. He moaned again. In his fantasy Chris’ lips were soft, his mouth hot and he wished he’d get the chance to do this for real just once.  
Neil’s hands moved down, over his belly to the inside of his thighs. It made his skin tingle to imagine that it was Chris who was touching him there, Chris who ran his hands over his body to excite him even more. Neil groaned and thought once more about being kissed by Chris. He wanted it so much, he was getting hard just thinking about it. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, Neil reached for his dick, not quite daring to picture Chris doing that as well. And yet…the thought, the wish was there, half formed in his not so subconscious mind.

He gave his erection a few gentle strokes and of course his thoughts were back with Chris as he did so. Chris who was still kissing and touching him. Neil wanted to draw Chris close to him in a fierce hug. Wanted to feel his friend’s body press against his. Wanted to experience the weight and the heat of that body. Wanted to feel how excited Chris had become.

Forcing a few shuddering breaths to calm him a little, Neil teased his foreskin back and flicked his thumb over the sensitive tip. He wished he had undressed completely, and that Chris was there next to him, naked as well. It turned him on immensely to imagine how Chris was getting hard and what it would feel like to touch his erection. Neil wanted to feel the heat of it in his hands as he caressed it and finally pumped it frantically. In truth he was only working himself towards completion with fast, impatient strokes but for a second or so he thought he could feel, really feel Chris’ imaginary touches, the passion between them; thought he could hear them both moan and gasp.

He tweaked one of his nipples and continued his frantic strokes. His mind conjured images of Chris kissing him all over, of Chris’s mouth exploring his chest, his nipples, his belly before finally closing over the tip of his hard dick. Neil felt himself shudder and moan. That last image simply had been too much; he just couldn’t stand it any longer. He thrust his hips upwards, wanting to feel more of Chris’ mouth, of the wet heat and managed another hard stroke.

Then he came with a muffled cry and Chris’ name not quite whispered into the silence of his bedroom. His mind went blank and for a moment that felt like an eternity and still was much too short it really was bliss and he hardly felt his sperm spilling over his hand and onto his belly. He felt drowsy and content and just managed to pull the blanket up to his chin once more before sleep claimed him.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

When he woke again the next morning, which fortunately was a Saturday, Neil felt awful. It wasn’t so much a physical thing; he didn’t feel sick or like he might be catching a cold and he wasn’t in any pain. He felt empty and depressed but also nervous and on edge as if he had done something forbidden and his guilty conscience just wouldn’t let him forget.

As soon as he tried to move, he remembered why he felt that way. His pants and boxers were still tangled up around his legs, pushed down to his knees. Neil felt his face burn as he recalled his thoughts from last night, his fantasies about Chris. He wasn’t even sure if it was more out of shame or because those fantasies still excited him that he blushed. He lay there for a long moment. He didn’t move, didn’t even pull up his pants. He felt too numb to do anything, too foolish. His head felt as if it contained too many buzzing bees, there were too many thoughts swirling around in it. Too many conflicting emotions.

He let out a long sigh and fought the urge to cry. For God’s sake, he wasn’t a baby, he surly could handle a little unrequited love. After all, it wasn’t even the first time he had found himself in such a situation.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

It was nearly noon when Chris finally showed up in his kitchen. He found Vicky scowling at him for she had seemingly just returned from a shopping trip to some street market and the local corner shop and was busy packing away the things she had bought. Luckily, she had also prepared some tea and kept the pot warm underneath a hideous tea cosy. Chris ignored his sister’s annoyed glances and pattered over to the cupboard to grab a mug and then poured himself some tea. He carried his cup over to the small table in front of the window and sank down on a spindly chair and buried his face in his hands, his elbows resting on the tabletop.

He felt groggy and he hadn’t even been out until late and there was no way that he was suffering from a hangover after only two pints of lager. Still, he felt rough, like he’d been run over by one of those red double-decker buses the tourists were so fond of. He didn’t look up when he heard his sister sigh and then come over to sit down opposite him as well. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think. He just wanted to sip his tea and pretend that he hadn’t been laying awake most of the night thinking improper things about his best friend.

He was surely going crazy if this crush or whatever it was that he’d developed for Neil was affecting him so much. Chris slowly lifted his head; feeling watched and caught the concerned glance of his sister.

“Have you been up all night?” She asked and then stared at his brother in confusion when Chris practically jumped up from his chair as if some vicious insect had bitten him. He stared down at her wide-eyed for a moment and then turned on his heel and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving his untouched cup of tea behind. When he’d reached the door, he stopped for a second and mumbled: “Better get showered and dressed before breakfast,” before he disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Chris was beyond wondering why he behaved so oddly, he was too busy hoping that Vicky hadn’t seen the huge blush that had crept into his face when she had asked that no doubt completely innocent question. There really was no way she could have known just what part of him had been up all night. Chris groaned and leaned against the door of the bathroom that this time he had not only closed but also locked from the inside. He shook his head and pushed away from the door. This was getting ridiculous. How had that geeky bloke managed to get under his skin so much? And even managed to sneak into his dreams and waking fantasies?

“You’re not even my type, usually,” Chris grumbled under his breath and poked his tongue out when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Then he stripped off his pyjamas and quickly stepped into the shower. He had planned to take it cold, to wake him up and to chase away the lingering images of last night where he’d refused to give in to his bodies demands but he was shivering before he had even turned on the tab, so he chose warm water instead and surrendered to the fact that he wouldn’t get a moment of peace before he had finally taken care of his returning morning glory.

“Damn the power of imagination,” he thought glumly as he stood underneath the spray for a long moment, letting the warmth and the monotone rhythm of the falling water ease the tension form his shoulders. Damn Neil and his twinkling blue eyes for that matter. Or that impish grin of his, the one that made him look more like a boy than the serious young man he pretended most of the time to be.

Chris groaned again; those thoughts weren’t helping matters. But damn it all again, he was too turned on by now to care. He leaned against the cool tiles and squeezed his eyes shut. He thought about how he had hardly been able to follow Neil in his reasoning the previous evening because he had been too busy staring at his friend’s lips when he spoke instead of paying attention to his words. Those lips that sometimes looked so very pink, almost like Neil used lip gloss, which Chris was convinced his friend did not. So pink and kissable, especially the full lower lip which Neil was biting whenever he was either deep in concentration or worried.

Chris ran his thumb lazily over his lips, parting them slightly and tried to picture kissing Neil. He could almost see the look of shock and surprise on his friends face and grinned to himself. He would make sure it was a pleasant surprise for Neil, oh yeah. He would take advantage of having rendered his friend speechless for once and instead of letting him pull away, increase the pressure on his lips until Neil relented and granted Chris tongue the desired access to his mouth. He would kiss Neil slowly, deeply but would also hold him close so that he wasn’t able to get away.

Would it take long to persuade Neil that this was in fact a brilliant idea? Chris didn’t hope so because he really wanted to do much more than just kiss his friend. He wanted to unbutton Neil’s shirt, which his friend always had buttoned up to his neck. Chris was convinced he would choke himself instantly if he had to wear a shirt like that for only five minutes. Really, those buttons hid too much. The hollow at the end of Neil’s throat for example or any glimpse of his chest he might otherwise have caught.

Chris knew from an afternoon they had spent going swimming together that Neil didn’t have much body hair. Oh, his arms and legs were fairly well covered, but his chest was mostly bare safe for an odd patchwork of hair around his nipples. Not that Chris minded, he really wasn’t fixed that much on a particular type of men.

Chris began to run lazy circles over his chest and belly and up his arms and shoulders. He had a tough time deciding what he wanted more, to touch Neil in that way or to be touched by his friend like that. He concluded that he wanted both in equal measures. Neil would possibly be hesitant and careful, after all he had told Chris in vague terms about his rather limited experience with men, but Chris thought that it would be rather exciting to see Neil react to his prompts, to let him take his time exploring Chris’ body and find out what they both liked.

Chris moaned softly, he normally wasn’t that patient, when he had sex, he wanted to have fun, as much of it as possible and usually he preferred to skip most of the foreplay but somehow this thing with Neil felt different, even it was only happening in his fantasy.  
He tried to picture how he removed Neil’s clothing and ran his hands all over his body.

Neil would mimic Chris actions and just the thought that Neil would actually touch his naked body, turned Chris on even more. His breath caught in his throat when he imagined reaching out for Neil’s erection. Chris pictured how he would encircle his friend’s twitching member, feeling it getting harder under his playful strokes. He imagined how he would guide Neil’s hand down, between his legs to make Neil touch his cock as well.

Chris was still leaning against the tiles and his hand had his hard member in a firm grip and was pumping his shaft with slow, long strokes while his other hand had wandered a little further to fondle his testicles. He thought of Neil again; of Neil’s tongue in his mouth, his kisses a bit sloppy and awkward but nevertheless eager and thrilling. He thought of Neil’s hands on his naked skin, exploring, learning the little particularities of Chris’ body. He thought of Neil’s erection, hard and hot within his grip.

Chris groaned and increased the speed of his strokes. Damn that bloody Geordie, he hadn’t even seen Neil fully undressed and yet there he was getting horny like a goddamn teenage boy just thinking about Neil, thinking about doing things with Neil.

He played with his balls again, rolling them around in his cupped hand as gently as he could manage with the desperate need to come driving him ‘round the bent. He was close now, so damn close and he imagined grabbing hold of Neil’s bum, forcing his friend closer and closer still until both their hard dicks were rubbing against each other and both their hips were working frantically to get even closer, to find friction, to find release…

Chris felt his knees go weak as he started going over the edge. He only half realized he was sliding down the wall as she shuddered and came hard with a muffled cry. When he came back to his senses, he found himself sitting on the floor of the small shower cabin, knees drawn up, head bowed against the constant rush of water from above.

His breath came in harsh, quick gasps which sounded much too loud in his ears even though the water kept drumming out a steady rhythm on the tiles. Slowly Chris climbed back to his feet and wiped at his face. The water must’ve got into his eyes; there was no way they were burning like that for any other reason after all. Hell, it was not like he, Chris Lowe, was known for pining over guys he could not have.

By the time he was done with his shower and had dressed in his favourite jeans and sweater, Chris felt a little better, a little less like a lovesick school kid. He put on his trainers and a baseball cap and hurried past his sister, who, judging by the desperately blank face expression she wore was trying hard not to burst out laughing, gabbed his jacket from a chair in the living room and stormed out of the flat. He was driven by a kind of grim determination. Something had to be done. Never mind the fact he had absolutely no idea what that something ought to be.

For once it wasn’t raining when Chris stepped out of the door and onto the wet pavement. It was still frightfully cold and being Chris, he made a point of not owning gloves or a scarf. They were as annoying as umbrellas in his opinion.

He zipped up his jacket, put the collar up and stuffed his hands as deeply into the pockets as they would go but withdrew his right hand almost immediately. He had found a piece of folded paper and now tried to shake it open without having to withdraw his other hand as well. He frowned at the innocent piece of paper as if it had offended him, certain it would turn out to be just another cheap lunch time offer at some dreadful little restaurant even he had scruples of entering.

Instead, Chris found himself staring at a badly photocopied party invitation he had been given by a guy in his architectural courses. The invitation had been composed of words and pictures cut out of magazines which had been reassembled to form an odd group of imaginary party goers.

Chris stared at the invitation for a moment and then, realizing the party was scheduled for the very same evening, his face lit up and he grinned widely to himself. Stuffing his hand back into the pocket of his jacket, still clutching the invitation, he nearly bounced down the street, whistling softly to himself. Of course, it wasn’t coincidence that his steps led him straight to Neil’s flat.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

The doorbell ran just as Neil stepped out of the shower. Reaching for the towel he contemplated just ignoring the uninvited visitor but when the ringing just wouldn’t stop and instead only increased in urgently, Neil cursed loudly, wrapped the towel as tightly around his hips as he could, grabbed another smaller one to dry his hair with and headed for the door.

“Yes, yes, I’m on my way,” he muttered to himself as he pressed the buzzer and waited behind the still closed door for whoever had had the nerve to be so persistent. After a little while he could hear footsteps outside in the corridor and then a short rap on the door. He peered through the peephole and blushed quite fiercely when he caught sight of Chris standing just a few inches away, so close in fact that Neil could’ve reached out to touch him easily had the door not separated them.

He swallowed hard a couple of times, took a deep breath, pulled the towel a little lower down over his forehead and then yanked the door open and stepped backwards. Chris seemed puzzled when Neil failed to show and reluctantly poked his head through the gap.

“Neil? Where are you? What’s up? Why…?” His voice trailed off when he spotted his friend hiding behind the door, back half turned as if trying to get away from him. Chris was glad Neil was too busy drying his hair to realize how he had frozen in mid-motion, his mouth hanging open, staring at Neil. A fierce blush crept over Chris’ face and he blinked repeatedly.

After all he’d done and thought about in the shower just half an hour ago, it was a bit much to stumble across an almost naked Neil, who by the look of it, had just stepped out of the shower himself. Chris shook his head slightly, wondering if having a towel wrapped around one’s hips counted as being dressed. Possibly not.

Still not quite looking at his friend, Neil snapped: “If you’re not going to get lost, at least close the door when you come in. It’s getting fucking cold!”

Chris stared at Neil for a second longer and tried to ignore the fact that hearing Neil cursing like that had sent a little shiver down his spine. “Fucking, yeah…” he thought eagerly but tried to keep his face neutral. “Right,” he muttered and stepped into the narrow corridor and closed the door behind him. “Morning, Neil. Didn’t want to bother you but normally you’re almost ready for lunch by this time of day!”

Chris managed a cheeky grin and let Neil pass him by. He saw Neil shiver slightly as he hesitated halfway back to the bathroom and then turned back to face Chris.

“You know you don’t bother me,” Neil began in a soft voice. “I just… didn’t expect visitors. I… I forgot the time reading,” he explained, wondering all the while why he bothered and why the hell, he sounded so insecure and unconvincing.

“Whatever,” Chris just shrugged. “Go on, get dressed. I’ll make tea if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. Tea sounds good,” Neil replied with a weak smile and finally crossed the last couple of steps to the bathroom door.

Chris stared at it after it had closed behind his friend and closed his eyes for a moment. Whereas Neil must’ve been freezing, Chris now felt a little too warm. The fact that he had just been given a fairly good view of Neil’s bum had more to do with that than the only half-heartedly working radiator in Neil’s living room. Chris shook his head again and forced himself out of his trance.

Kicking off his trainers and shrugging out of his jacket, he went over to the small kitchenette and started preparing tea and toast. He didn’t even stop to wonder if it was okay for him to rummage through Neil’s nearly empty fridge in search for something to go with the toast. He wrinkled his nose when he took out a small jar of Marmite. He’d never understood how anyone could possibly like that stuff and Neil seemed to eat little else with his toast. Chris was pleased to find an unopened glass of raspberry jam as well and the strange thought that Neil might have bought it especially for him crossed his mind, making him feel both a little embarrassed and special.

At the same time Neil was hastily getting dressed, feeling like he was on autopilot. His mind was not in the same room as the rest of him as he tried to recover from the shock of having just run into Chris wearing nothing, but a towel wrapped around his hips and feeling like his secret thoughts and fantasies from the night before had been tattooed to his forehead in bright, flashing colours.

And was it just his imagination or had Chris been acting strangely for a moment as well? Had he somehow realized just what kind of feelings Neil was so desperately trying to hide? But no, that could not be the case. If he had noticed, then Chris would not have just shrugged his shoulders and offered to make tea.

Neil took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. “You’re just getting paranoid, that’s all,” he told himself and pulled his pullover over his head. He only realized he wore it the wrong way round when he stood in front of the mirror to brush his still damp hair away from his forehead.

He cursed, feeling annoyed and like a total idiot as he pulled the pullover back over his head and put it on correctly. When he glanced back at the mirror, hysterical giggles were rising in his throat. His hair was standing on end and his glasses were askew. He really was a total mess and all because of Chris. With a sigh and a determined gesture, he adjusted his glasses and finished drying his hair. He hoped his smile didn’t look too forced as he left the bath.

He found his friend waiting for him, sitting on one end of the sofa, nursing a steaming mug of tea, staring out of the window. Another cup of equally hot tea stood on the small table near the other end of the sofa and a plate had been piled high with toast. Two empty plates and two knifes had been placed to either side of the pile and Neil grinned as he saw that Chris had placed his jar of Marmite near his plate.

Neil sat down on the other end of the sofa, startling Chris out of his daydreams. He gave Neil a strange little smile and then teased: “Pretty enough for today, are we?”

Neil just snorted and muttered: “As if,” to himself. He said nothing else while he prepared a slice of toast. Then, feeling watched, he faced Chris and asked: “So what are you doing here again? Missed me?” He had aimed for sarcasm but when Chris just broke into a huge grin, Neil was not at all certain he had succeeded.

“Yeah,” Chris told him. “You and your odd sense of humour.”

Neil pulled a face like he’d just discovered something disgusting in his tea but said nothing, so Chris ignored him and instead took the party invitation from where he’d placed it next to his plate. He held it out right in front of Neil’s face and predictably Neil yanked it out of his hand with an annoyed look on his face.

“What’s this?”

“An invitation to a party,” Chris told him matter-of-factly. He had to fake a cough to hide his giggles as he watched Neil studying the little leaflet. At first Neil continued to look annoyed when it became clear that Chris would not elaborate, then Neil frowned in confusion and in the end looked torn between vague embarrassment, shock, and amusement. When he lifted his face to look at Chris again, his eyes behind his glasses had widened slightly but he tried to look stern and disapproving. He half managed to give a convincing performance, raised eyebrows and all, but then ruined the picture by grinning in an uncomfortable way.

“What about this party invitation then?”

“Oh, come on! ‘What about this party invitation then?’” Chris imitated Neil’s tone of voice and rolled his eyes. “What do you guess, Mr. Smart-Ass? Will you go?”

“What?” Neil looked positively alarmed but still shot quick glances at the leaflet in his hand and Chris found the odd mixture of curiosity and near panic very endearing.

“I said: Will you go?” He repeated, speaking the words infuriatingly slowly.

Neil made a quick, dismissive gesture with his hand and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you alright. It’s just…You can’t be serious!”

“Why? What are you on about?” Chris wondered, looking genuinely puzzled.

Neil stared at him for a moment then sighed and bought himself some time by sipping his tea. Then he put his cup back down and faced Chris once more.

“That party’s held in a pub?”

Yeah.”

“You do know it says ‘gay men and friends’ on that flyer?”

“Yeah, but…”

“And you still expect me to go to this… this weird underwear party with you?”

“What?” Chris stared at his friend for a moment, wondering if they both had seen the same leaflet and then closed his mouth with a snap. “What the hell are you talking about, Neil? It doesn’t say anything about underwear! It’s a pyjama party!”

Neil still looked sceptical. “And you’re trying to tell me that this is not some sort of cryptic way to express that everybody is expected to wear not exactly very much?”

Chris shook his head. “No, not really,” he eyed Neil in a way that expressed he was not quite certain he friends still owned all his marbles. “Everything’s meant exactly as it put on here.”

He took the flyer from Neil’s hand and waved it through the air.

“And the ‘gay men and friends’ bit is only on it because the brother of girl who’s throwing the party’s a fag himself.”

“Oh,” Neil looked taken aback and busied himself by preparing another slice of toast.

“You didn’t really think I was trying to drag you to some kind of ‘g-strings and boots only’ party, did you?”

When Neil refused to answer and stubbornly devoted all his attention to his plate, Chris couldn’t help but chuckle. Somehow the picture that remark conjured in his mind’s eye wasn’t right. Neil would be as out of place on such a party as the proverbial bull in a china shop.

“Silly prat,” he chided. “As if I’d go to such clubs… No, listen: a guy at university gave this thingy to me.” Once more he waved the flyer through the air. “His sister and her boyfriend are going to open up this pub but before they’ll start throwing all the old junk out and get new furniture and things, they thought they were going to have this big private party. Apparently, there is lots of space so everybody’s supposed to bring a friend or two.”

“And why pyjamas?” Neil asked, still studying his toast intently.

“Oh, what do I know? No, wait, I even know the reason,” Chris crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked triumphantly at Neil. “The girl studied in America for a bit and when she came back, she told her boyfriend that everybody did go to tons of pyjama parties during high school. Well, of course she didn’t and now she gets her own pyjama party! Nothing sinister about it.”

Neil finally looked up and smiled sheepishly. “I see, guess I read too much into this. Okay, I’ll go if you go!”

Chris broke into a huge grin and slapped Neil enthusiastically on the back. “Brilliant! ‘Cos I’m going. Why don’t you ask if little Parker wants to come along as well?”

Neil blinked a few times at the suggestion and looked thoughtful for a moment but then nodded slowly. “Yes, I can ask Daniel. Who are you bringing?”

“No one. Some of the guys I know from the clubs wouldn’t really appreciate a mixed crowed. Think it’s kinda annoying. But I warn you, the guy who gave me the flyer, he’s got an eye on me, but I don’t like him. So, if he makes any stupid remarks, just ignore him!”

“So, I’m just supposed to come to discourage him?” Neil snapped, clearly offended.

“No! Of course not. I’d…I’d ask you along anyway. Because…because I think it’ll be fun. You know? To... to go with you,” Chris stammered. Blimey, that guy really was complicated! And he was only asking if he wanted to go to party, not to bloody marry him.

Neil let his gaze drop for a second and then nodded again. “Right. I’ll go with you. Just forget what I said, okay?”

“Deal,” Chris readily agreed but couldn’t resist the temptation to tease Neil a little more. “Underwear party, huh? What was that? Wishful thinking? You should get out more, if you’re so desperate for…”

“What?” Neil interrupted. “A shag? Just say it, Chris, the laugh’s always on the loser anyway.”

“Good that you said that and not I,” Chris grinned. “I wanted to say: …if you’re so desperate for a glimpse of some tell-tale bulges.”

Neil’s head snapped around and he looked directly at Chris, his face totally blank for a moment before he started laughing so hard that before long tears wee running down his face and he slumped back against the sofa.

“You’re priceless, Lowe, you really are,” he gasped in between fits of laughter. “Not the tell-tale heart, no! The tell-tale bulge, my arse!”

Chris chuckled as well and when Neil had calmed down a little, asked: “Shall I come to pick you up around half nine, then? We can take the bus down to Victoria.”

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

They reached the pub, which was situated in a deserted looking side-street not far from Victoria Coach Station, nearly an hour later than had been called for on the flyer. This was mainly down to Chris who had rung the bell to Neil’s flat 40 minutes late to begin with. Then they had gotten into a bit of a fight on the bus about which station to best get off. In the end Chris had jumped off at a random stop and Neil had no choice but to follow. When they’d asked for directions, they found they had no other option but to wait another 15 minutes for the next bus. Of course, it was raining once more and none of them had taken an umbrella.

Thankfully Neil’s mood brightened considerably when he caught sight of the pub’s neon sign. When the door swung open and some big guy with fierce red hair stepped outside to light a cigarette, loud music spilled out onto the pavement.

“Uh, I love that 12” mix,” Chris declared, so delighted he even forgot he was actually sulking. “Don’t you? The way they change the tune of Tainted Love into Where did our love go? is genius! And you know why?”

Neil nodded and under his breath muttered the words: “Because that Dave Ball chap is a Blackpool lad and went to the same school as me,” in tune with his friend. His cheek earned him a good-natured punch to his belly, but Neil easily side-stepped it, grinning apologetically at the huge guy as they made their way into the pub. They found themselves in a spacious corridor leading to some stairs which had been boarded up to their left, the storage room to the right and the main room of the pub just some steps in front of them.

A huge handwritten sign, made from cardboard and felt pen pointed in the direction of the small room, saying: “Change here, please! No shoes allowed indoors.”

Chris turned to Neil, still shaking water out of his hair. “Brilliant, I’ll get cold feet without my trainers!”

Neil rolled his eyes but said nothing as he made his way into the thankfully empty cloakroom and sat his backpack down. He quickly toed his shoes off and hung his jacket on the coat rack that ran along the far wall. Then he crouched down and rummaged through his backpack and found the bundle of clothes he had brought for the occasion.

“Hey Chris,” he called softly and when his friend turned to face him, threw him a pair of thick, hand-knitted woollen socks.

“Thanks a million,” Chris beamed at him, “Your first drink’s on me for that.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Neil shrugged and got up. He turned his back towards Chris, feeling more than just a little foolish to partly undress in his friend’s presence. He had not been able to shake the memories of last night, little guilty flashes popped up in his head at the most inconvenient moments, making him nervous and jumpy.

As quickly as he could he changed from his now rather wet jeans into the pants of yet another track suit, then pulled his pullover over his head and exchanged it against a faded black and orange hooded zipper jacket. He finished by balancing on one foot at a time when putting his thick socks on as well.

Chris had noticed Neil’s sudden nervousness and frowned to himself about it. He had learned quickly that Neil was a rather private person who hated being made to look undignified but still it surprised him that Neil was that touchy that night. Despite of his slight worries he chanced a couple of quick glances at his friend as he hurried to change into his sleep wear.

“Of course, it has to be white boxers,” Chris thought and suppressed a sigh. “Doesn’t he wear anything else but white boxer shorts? But nice legs, boy! And the bum’s not bad either… Wait a minute, I really shouldn’t be thinking such things. Poor Neil, if he knew, he’d be mortified.”

When Neil turned back, he caught Chris staring at him but by some divine coincidence was saved from the embarrassment of having his blush discovered by the door swinging open and a group of girls bursting in. They were laughing, giggling, and chatting and only stopped when they realized that they weren’t the only people in the cloakroom.

“Never mind us,” Chris announced brightly. “We were just leaving.”

When they had squeezed successfully past the girls and the door was closed with quite a bit of unnecessary force behind them, Chris turned to Neil immediately: “Wrong gender, Neil. You’re supposed to smile at boys now, not girls.”

“No, I wasn’t… I mean, I wasn’t flirting or anything. I was just polite,” Neil protested and then stopped dead in his tracks when it finally registered what exactly Chris was wearing. He gaped at Chris, who was now a few steps in front of him. That guy really was impossible! It was winter, freezing cold, and not only five minutes ago he had complained about the possibility of getting cold feet, yet here was Chris wearing only an extremely lose-fitting boxer shorts, a baggy, light yellow T-shirt with the MTV logo in huge, pink letters on the chest and Neil’s woollen socks rolled down at the ankles as far as they would go.

If he hadn’t been so absorbed in ogling Chris’ bare lower legs, Neil’d been getting a goose flesh just from watching Chris wearing those clothes better fit for a hot day at the beach than a cold London evening. Neil took a deep breath and hurried after his friend. And no, he did no wish that the clothes Chris was wearing were tighter and he was also not stealing glances at the soft looking hair on Chris’ arms.

When they stepped into the main room, it was like walking into a wall of sound and smoke. The DJ apparently liked the new breed of electronic groups that had popped up in recent years because Soft Cell’s international mega hit had been followed by The Human League’s Love Action.

“You know, we really have to figure out that synthesiser of yours,” Chris half shouted at Neil. “Would be cool to walk into a pub like that and have one of our songs playing, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Neil agreed hesitantly. “It would help if we had a decent song though.”

Chris just grinned and padded his friend on the shoulder as if to say ‘no need to worry, that’ll be a piece of cake!’ He indicated that he was going to get drinks for both and that Neil should wait for him and then was gone. Neil quickly lost sight of him and folded his arms in front of his chest. He felt weary, a little exposed and ill at ease standing there amidst a crowd of strange people in clothes hardly anybody would normally see him wear.

It became clear to him rather quickly that Chris would be better off in his boxer shorts and T-shirt as it was extremely hot in the large room, which stretched both to each side and to the front for quite a few yards. Neil took his time looking around. About 80 people were gathered in the room and yet it didn’t appear to be overly crowded.

A large group of 15 to 20 people were hanging around the bar, ether waiting to be served or enjoying their drinks while chatting. In the middle of the room a clear space raised a little above ground level indicated the dancefloor. Only a handful of people were currently making use of it but those that were, were quite enthusiastic about it.

A little further into the room, the floor in one sparsely lit corner had been covered by mattresses and Neil could see people lounging there in small groups, usually of 2 or 3. Most were sitting, some with their legs tugged underneath them, some Indian style and one couple had stretched out comfortably, but Neil doubted those two even realized they were not at home in their own bed.

The sight of the lovers embracing and kissing each other so passionately made Neil somewhat uncomfortable and a bit jealous as well. No, not jealous in the sense that he begrudged one of the love birds his or her happiness or even wanted to be in their place. Not that. Neil realized that he envied them, that he wanted someone just for himself as well. And not just someone but…

Of course, Chris chose that moment to return, startling Neil badly by suddenly appearing at his shoulder and talking loudly into his ear: “Here’s your drink. Sorry it took so long but some girls in front of me demanded cocktails.”

“God, Chris! Try not to give me a heart attack next time you fetch the drinks,” Neil snapped automatically to hide his nervousness. “What? No larger?” He inquired but looked pleased as he finally took the glass of red wine from Chris’ hand.

“Well, no. Thought you told me you like wine better than a pint, that’s why,” Chris mumbled.

Neil grinned at him, feeling suddenly warm inside and took a long sip. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s not even half bad.”

That comment made Chris chuckle. In moments like that he caught himself thinking how much fun it was having Neil at his side. That guy really had a talent for understatement and irony. “He should do a running commentary to everything that happens to us,” Chris thought to himself and grinned.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

They spent the next couple of minutes silently sipping their drinks, watching people. Then they started wandering around, looking for familiar faces. Chris spotted the guy from university who had invited him a few times and each time immediately turned the other way, looked away or quickly ducked behind Neil to avoid being approached by the other young man.

“Don’t move, Neil, don’t move,” Chris was pleading in a frantic whisper as he was trying to hide behind Neil’s back when his admirer went past them nearby.

Chris’ hands had a firm grip on Neil’s shoulders, and he brushed against his back when he tried to figure out if the air was clear once more. Neil had to fight the sudden urge to lean back against his friend and forbid himself to let his mind wander back to imagined images of Chris’ hands touching him in a less than casual way.

When Chris stepped away and released his shoulders, Neil was both glad and disappointed. Determined not to show it, he drained the rest of his wine and turned to lecture his friend: “Don’t you think you’re acting like a bairn? Just tell him to sod off if he’s really getting so much on your nerves, for heaven’s sake. Not that he’s even done anything to annoy you so far…”

“Are you saying I should let him chat me up?” Chris asked innocently. The way Neil’s face fell briefly didn’t escape his notice and he found himself wondering once more if his sister hadn’t been right and he really should talk to his friend.

“Why would I say that?” Neil replied with a frown. “I don’t even know him. I… I can’t judge if he’s a nice guy or not. But if you don’t like him, that’s fine with me. It’s not my job to pick your boyfriends, or love interests or whatever!”

Before Chris could reply, they were interrupted by the arrival of another two young men. One was a little shorter than Chris, blond and slim and the other was about the same height and obviously from Indian or Pakistani descent and handsome in a brooding sort of way, with thick black shortcut hair. He seemed a little reluctant to approach Neil and Chris while the blond guy grinned widely and drew Neil into a lose hug and then shock Chris’ hand.

“Danny!” Neil beamed and nodded in the direction of the dark-haired man. “Good to see you. Mind introducing us to your friend?”

“Hi Neil, hi Chris. No, of course not. That’s Ravi. Ravi, meet Neil and Chris. Neil’s an old friend and former flat mate of mine and Chris is a mate of his.”

After all the introductions had been made and hands had been shaken, Chris started a discussion about football. Soon he and Ravi were engaged in such an animated debate they didn’t pay much notice to their friends slipping away. Daniel had caught Neil’s attention by tugging at his elbow and in reply to Neil’s quizzical look, had leaned in closer and told him: “Come on, let’s talk.”

They found a quiet spot not far from the mattress-covered corner of the room which was still in plain sight from where the other two boys still argued about Arsenal and the Premier League and other things Neil really didn’t know a thing about.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked after a moment of silence. Somehow, he had to make a conscious effort to keep his attention focused on Daniel. It wasn’t that he was annoyed by his friend’s presence, Neil was sincerely pleased to see him, it was just that his gaze was always drawn back to Chris like a piece of metal is drawn to a magnet.

Daniel threw his friend a slightly bemused look. He didn’t answer and instead just asked: “Aren’t you hot in that tracksuit of yours?”

Neil snorted and pulled a face. “You bet I am,” he admitted. With a theatrical sigh he added: “Should it ever get that hot in my flat, I’ll know something’s terribly wrong! But honestly, I feel like taking a shower. First I’m getting all soaked by the rain and now I fell like I’ve stepped into a greenhouse.”

Daniel smirked. “Maybe you should go back to wear plain pyjamas.”

“Sure,” Neil replied sarcastically. “And end up looking like Mommy’s little darling in his neat, freshly pressed pair. Navy blue and white! Honestly, Danny, what were you thinking? You’re just missing the little sailor boy’s cap.”

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn’t take offence. “Tease me all you want. I noticed that you seem to think boxer shorts and baggy shirts are the look of the night.”

Neil quickly looked away only to find himself watching Chris once more. Wasn’t there any escape from this? He was getting obsessed, wasn’t he? And did he even want to escape that new obsession?

When Neil didn’t respond, Daniel dropped the matter. “How are you doing?” He asked instead.

“Oh, you know, not too bad.”

Daniel crooked his head and looked at his friend. “Let me guess, in Neil-code it means: ‘not too good either’.”

That comment made Neil laugh and he shrugged his shoulders. “Both is true, in a way.”

“Any improvements with your family?”

“Not really. Father’s still not talking to me. Hasn’t exchanged a single word with me since he slammed the receiver down the day before Christmas Eve. Mum’s trying to compensate by being unbearably cheerful, but we don’t talk about…it.”

“It!” Daniel grumbled. “You know, you won’t solve anything by refusing to even name the problem.”

“Danny,” Neil sighed, sounding weary. “Give me a break. You and I both know what I’m talking about but if it’ll make you happy, I can rephrase what I just said: Mum and I don’t talk about me being gay. Is that better?”

“Sorry,” Daniel apologized with a lopsided smile. “Guess it just gets on my nerves that I can’t be as honest as I’d like to be at school and constantly have to watch my words. If that jerk of a headmaster found out about me, my teaching career would be over before it even started.”

“It’s alright,” Neil amended. “It’s just… It doesn’t make much of a difference. What Mum and I don’t talk about; I mean. In my family no-one talks about anything. Not about personal stuff and certainly not about anything even remotely to do with sex.” He sighed again and pushed his glasses higher up onto his nose. “Not that I’d have much to tell, without a boyfriend to introduce.”

“Shame, that,” Daniel commented with a grin. “When you don’t launch into one of your notorious lectures, you’re not such a bad bloke.”

“Ha ha, very funny, Parker. And I thought lecturing was part of your job description,” Neil shot back but then frowned and went on in such a quiet voice that Daniel had to strain his ears to catch his words.

“Sometimes I think I shouldn’t start another relation. I’m not particularly good at them. No matter if I’m gay or straight or whatever. Look at me, I’m 27 and I only had two serious relationships! And the longer of the two didn’t even last three years! What a disaster!”

“Oh yeah?” Daniel didn’t seem to be overly impressed with Neil’s sudden bleak mood. “So, you haven’t noticed that he’s watching you whenever he thinks you’re not looking?”

Neil looked up sharply, eyes wide behind his glasses. His gaze travelled to where Chris and Ravi were still talking and indeed Chris caught him looking over and gave a small wave. Something in Neil’s stomach twisted into a tight knot and he felt queasy suddenly and yet strangely thrilled. He looked back at Daniel and faked ignorance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, and I’m going to marry Mother Theresa!”

Neil didn’t comment and instead made to go over to the bar. “I’m gonna get another drink,” he muttered as he turned his back to Daniel.

Somehow Neil had the feeling that as the evening wore on, he’d prefer not to be too sober. As he stood at the bar, he had the irrational impression of Chris’ gaze following him. Neil could almost feel his friend’s stare like a fleeting touch on his back, travelling along the outlines of his body. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to shake the ridiculous sentiment.

Accepting his second glass of wine gratefully, Neil noted that, even though he was uncomfortably hot, he shivered slightly when he just thought of Chris. By the time he had returned to Daniel’s side, he had drained half of his wine and felt the alcohol starting to get to his head. He nearly spilt the rest of his drink when Chris startled him badly by sneaking up on him from behind and without warning slamming his hands down on his shoulders.  
“Jesus, Chris! You really do like freaking me out, do you?” Neil complained half-heartedly.

“Yeah, I do,” Chris admitted with a huge grin and squeezed himself between the two friends. “It’s fun shattering your composure.”

“My…?” Neil began, perplexed. Once again, he was so focused on Chris that he didn’t notice Daniel snickering.

“See?” Chris went on. “Sometimes it’s dead easy to get under your skin.”

For some reason Neil felt even hotter than before and couldn’t help but stare. Blue eyes met brown and for a moment Neil was lost. Then Chris slapped his back, and the spell was broken.

“Come on, let’s go and dance.”

Neil pulled a face. “Oh no! You know I’m not too fond of dancing.”

“Don’t be a wet blanket, Neil,” Chris chided him while at the same time flashing him a bright smile. “What about you, Parker? Are you game?”

When the younger man nodded and Ravi, who had just rejoined the group, did so as well, Neil shrugged his shoulder. “Alright, alright. Forget I ever said anything.”

Chris smiled sweetly. “Brilliant! And if it makes you feel better you can pretend, we’re ice-skating.”

“Ice-skating? Why ice-skating?” Neil asked and wondered if he was still following the plot.

“Because I noticed you can slide quite nicely on that wooden floor with those woollen socks of yours.”

Neil laughed and dutifully followed his friends onto the dancefloor.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

They danced for a while to an obscure mixture of songs but whenever a synth-based tune came on, Chris experienced an odd rush of excitement. Since he’d run into Neil, he felt like it might actually be worthwhile pursuing his talent for creating melodies. Until then he’d done nothing but doodle, had willed away the afternoons and long nights in front of his parent’s old piano, pretending the ghost of Tchaikovsky was composing through him. He’d hardly ever written any of his compositions down, but Neil was different.

Not only did he keep countless notebooks full of lyrics, fragments of ideas, rhymes, odd words, and melodies worked out for either guitar or piano, but he also had the ambition and stubborn determination to make something happen. Chris grinned to himself. When he thought about it, Neil reminded him a little of a terrier. Once those dogs had sunken their teeth into something, they were hell to shake loose.

But even though the idea of writing more songs with Neil was exciting, it wasn’t what occupied Chris’ mind. It was Neil the person, not his songs or visions and theories that captured Chris’ attention and imagination. It had been like that ever since he’d waved goodbye to his new friend on that strange Christmas Eve.

Even though they had grown surprisingly close in the relatively short time since their chance encounter last August, in some aspects Neil remained an enigma and Chris found it difficult sometimes to make head or tails of his friend’s behaviour.

“Take tonight for example,” Chris thought as he watched Neil dance and subconsciously sing along to the words of the David Bowie’s Life on Mars under his breath. “One minute he’s all hyper and giggling and the next he’s tense and jumpy. Wonder what it is that makes him that uncomfortable. Must more than just the heat.”

When he looked up, he caught Neil watching him but unlike other moments like that, Neil didn’t quickly look away. Instead, he held Chris’ gaze and then smiled. Chris grinned back but wondered what on earth was going on. His heartbeat had picked up pace and his stomach felt like he’d been going on too many rollercoaster rides on the Pleasure Beach back in Blackpool.

“Damn,” he cursed silently. “What’s it about this geek that makes him so cute?”

Then suddenly the music stopped, and a loud female voice came booming out of the speakers instead: “Hi guys,” it began. “We just wanted to thank you all for coming down here tonight to have this little pyjama party with us. It’s like, you know, a dream come true for me and it’s great you seem to enjoy yourselves as well.”

There was some clapping and cheering and even a few wolf-whistles.

“Still worried about any secret gay agenda?” Chris whispered into Neil’s ear and grinned when his friend hung his head in obvious embarrassment. He didn’t dwell on it for long though and shot Chris a strangely intense look. The kind of look that made Chris want to reach out, plug the glasses from off Neil’s nose and snog him. Chris swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry and wished for another pint of lager.

“Not really,” Neil replied. “I like what I see even without any tell-tale bulges around.”

Before Chris could do more than just laugh at the odd comment, the woman’s voice continued: “We’ll have a little treat for you in a minute. So, while we’re getting ready, grab another drink or do whatever it is you’re doing to get ready for the fun. We’re gonna have London’s first ever Pub pillow fight!”

Again, her words caused a bit of a commotion and chatter rose around them like mist.

“Pillow fight?” Neil repeated, flabbergasted. He looked from Chris to Daniel and Ravi and back again. “Did she really say pillow fight?

“Yes, she did, old boy,” Daniel confirmed, and Chris chimed in: “You don’t wanna chicken out of it, do you?”

Neil locked eyes with him, frowning a little but then grinned deviously: “Actually not, no. Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.” He then motioned into the direction of the bar. “I’m getting another drink, anybody else coming?”

The other three men tagged along, and Chris watched Neil drink down his third glass of wine like it was juice and then ordering another one.

“Shouldn’t you slow down a bit?” He suggested, sipping on his half-pint. “It’s so bloody hot in here, it’ll go straight to your head.”

“I thought we agreed ‘straight’ wasn’t an option anymore,” Neil deadpanned. “And besides: How do you know that’s not what I’m aiming for?”

“What?” Chris sounded irritated. “What do you mean?”

But Neil ignored him and instead started to talk to one of the girls serving the drinks. It turned out that he made her keep his glasses save. When Neil took them off and handed them over, Chris caught Daniel trying to hide his fit of giggles with a bad imitation of coughs. He felt his face heat up a little as he knew only too well what little Parker found so damn funny: He’d been staring at Neil again, at the way his friend had been blinking furiously, then squeezed his eyes shut only to open them wide a second later, looking a little like an owl.

“Are there any owls with blue eyes?” Chris wondered distractedly and immediately felt foolish for thinking such crap. Neil didn’t seem to have noticed that he’d been stared at, or if he had, he didn’t mention it.

The music had come back on and Yazoo were welcoming the new decade with their song Goodbye 70s. Neil rubbed his eyes, blinked again and complained: “Ever since I gave up smoking, I got really sensitive to cigarette smoke. Makes my eyes burn in no time now.”

“Good thing you stopped smoking, though,” Daniel said.

Chris noticed that suddenly Ravi was standing suspiciously close to Parker. So close that they could be holding hands without being seen. He smiled to himself and shot a quick glance at Neil, who once again was sipping his wine. His cheeks were flushed, some of his unruly curls were plastered to his head and that slightly wide-eyed stare made him look more boyish. Chris bit his tongue and forced his attention back to what Daniel was saying.

“But what made you stop? I mean, I’ve been nagging you because of this for years and years and you never listened.”

“I stopped because…” Neil paused and threw a meaningful look in Chris’ direction, “that gentleman over there thought it was a good idea to always snatch my cigarettes from me and to snap them in half before I even had the chance to light them. After a while it stopped being funny and, in the end, buying fags was just a waste of money as I didn’t get to smoke half of them.”

Ravi snickered and Daniel looked smug, as if he thought that the end had definitely justified the means even if Neil disagreed, but Chris looked uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know it was because of this you stopped,” he muttered. “You never told me.”

“Never told you!” Neil shook his head, looking bemused. “Any why should I have told you? It was pretty damn obvious!”

Their discussion was interrupted when the music faded away once more and the woman’s voice came back on: “We’re ready if you are,” she declared. “Please clear a path to the dancefloor so that our helpers can deliver the ammunition.”

“Look, over there,” Ravi exclaimed and pointed towards the doors. A guy with a pushcart, piled high with pillows and cushions of all shapes and sizes, had entered the room and was quickly followed by four other guys with similar pushcarts. They all made their way towards the dancefloor where they dropped their cargo. Laughter and shouting rose around the four friends and people were beginning to pick up pillows. Once more the woman’s voice cut through the din: “Everybody who doesn’t want to be a part of this, please step aside. To the rest of you: Please stay clear of the bar and remember that it’s fun, not war. Now, everybody grab a pillow. Ready?”

When only a vague mumbling of consent could be heard, she asked once more: “Ready?”  
Now everybody shouted. Ravi, who had pushed through the crowd to the nearest pile of pillows, quickly handed one each to Neil, Daniel and Chris.

“Okay, then,” the woman announced. “On my mark: Ready, steady, goooo!”

Even before she had finished speaking, pandemonium broke lose around them. Neil somehow managed to avoid most to the pillows thrown in his direction for the time being but Chris wasn’t so lucky. He got hit by a volley of small cushions thrown at him in quick succession. He was trying to step out of the line of fire and didn’t get to throw his pillow in defence. Neil was squinting into the direction the pillows had been coming from and spotted the guy from university Chris had been trying to avoid all evening.

Neil glanced at his friend, who had ducked down behind him, holding his pillow over his head like a shield and then back at the other guy. He felt a sharp stab of dislike for the unknown man and a totally irrational urge to somehow protect his friend.

“Protect Chris! What on earth are you thinking?” Neil scolded himself. “Chris doesn’t need protecting; he can take care of himself.” But then another voice popped up in his head, one that sounded a little like Daniel’s: “So you don’t mind if that bloke gets to take his chance on Chris?”

Without waiting for his slightly intoxicated mind to come up with an answer, Neil turned and pushed his way towards the guy he suddenly hated with a passion. He stopped right behind Chris’s admirer and whacked him with his pillow a couple of times, harder than a harmless pillow fight strictly called for. When the guy whirled around, Neil hissed at him: “Leave him alone, he’s not interested!”

He guy gaped at Neil, mouth hanging open in disbelieve and rubbed his head. Neil tossed his pillow down in front of the guy’s feet, gave him his best sneer and then marched back to friends without looking back.

“What was that about?” Daniel asked when he was within earshot.

“Oh, shut up, Parker, just shut up,” Neil mumbled back. A cushion hit him square in the chest and when he looked up, alarmed, he saw Chris grinning at him from a few feet away.

“Fight, don’t talk,” he shouted and laughed when Neil took Daniel’s pillow and threw it at him but missed and instead nearly knocked a girl from her feet. Soon they were all totally immersed in the game, dodging pillows, aiming for their target, and gathering up new ammunition. Ravi and Daniel had sided against Neil and Chris and it turned out that the two younger men were rather good at attacking and forced Neil and Chris to back away.

“I think they didn’t listen,” Neil told Chris as he managed to catch Ravi’s latest pillow before it impacted on his head and threw it back with all the force he could muster. “This is war, if you ask me, and we’re on the losing side!”

He was a little out of breath and Chris next to him looked as dishevelled as he felt. Chris turned to face him and wiped some sweat from his brow. His baggy T-shirt clung to his chest and back.

“Tell me news, Tennant,” he teased. “What do you suggest?”  
Neil never got to answer.

Chris was hit by two pillows simultaneously and stumbled. He tripped over another one and feel forward, automatically trying to grab hold of something to avoid the fall. He managed to clutch at Neil’s shoulders, but his friend’s weight and the force of the impact made Neil stumble as well. He tried to regain his footing by taking a few quick steps backwards but then hit against something in his way. It was only the mattresses which covered part of the floor, but it was enough to make Neil tumble backwards, taking Chris down with him.

Neil landed on top of the mattress without even hitting his head but then the air was knocked from his lungs when Chris landed on top of him and he winced. Chris elbow had hit him in the ribs and his head had knocked against his chin. For a moment he just laid there, eyes closed and tried to get his breath back. He could feel Chris move, struggling to untangle his limbs and tried desperately not to think about how close they were. The length of their bodies was touching and for some reason Chris didn’t get up. It made Neil nervous.

“Nervous?” A shrill voice at the back of his mind mocked him. “Come on, at least admit it, you’re so much more than just nervous!”

“Hey Neil, are you okay?” Chris’s voice was close to his ear and Neil could feel his friend’s breath on his skin. He opened his eyes and blinked. Chris’s face was too close for him to immediately focus on it properly. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Really, I…”

Whatever he had wanted to say, he lost of all recollection of it when Chris leaned closer and all he was now able to see were his warm brown eyes.

“You should take off your glasses more often,” he heard Chris mumble. “Your blue eyes are really….”

Chris didn’t finish the sentence and instead leaned in even closer and kissed Neil. Just like that, right on the mouth. Neil’s mind went blank and he moaned softly. Immediately Chris’s tongue slipped into his mouth and after a split-second of total panic, Neil did the only thing he could do: he kissed back.

All too soon the kiss ended, and Chris moved away and climbed back to his feet, leaving Neil feeling cold and abandoned. His whole body was tingling and yet it was over and what the hell was he supposed to do or say once he got up as well? His head was spinning and though he vaguely knew that only a few seconds had passed since he had stumbled, it felt like half a lifetime since Chris had kissed him.

Someone nudged him in the side gently and when he opened his eyes again saw Chris standing by his feet, holding out a hand. Reluctantly he took it and let himself be pulled back onto his feet. Again, he came face to face with Chris, again Chris was much too close for comfort and Neil was unable to think. He just stared at his friend and wished he had the guts to close the distance between them and to kiss Chris back.

“Are you angry?” He heard Chris ask him and, with a sinking feeling, looked him right in the eyes. He saw no scorn or regret there, only concern, insecurity, and something he couldn’t quite put into words. Something that resonated with how he was feeling. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not angry.” His voice sounded hoarse and he realized that even though pillows were hitting both of them from all direction, he did not want to move. “As long as he keeps looking at me like that,” the thought, totally entranced, “I will remain right here, in the middle of all that chaos. They can keep throwing their pillows at us until hell freezes over for all I care.” “I don’t know what I am, “he finally continued, “but it’s not angry.”

“Good,” Chris beamed at him, his previous uncertainty forgotten. “Wanna repeat it?” He asked cheekily and giggled when Neil nearly lost his balance again.  
“Repeat? It?” Neil stammered. “Repeat what?”

“The kiss of course,” Chris answered but for all his bravado looked suddenly nervous. Neil wanted to answer but found that words failed him, so he nodded mutely.

“Really?” Chris looked relieved. “I’d hoped so!” He motioned for Neil to follow him but when he remained rooted to the spot, looking confused and perplexed, Chris impatiently grabbed him by the elbow and practically dragged him along through the crowd, past the bar and finally out of the room. The cooler air in the hallway seemed to snap Neil out of his trance and he stopped dead in his tracks, forcing Chris to stop as well.

“Where are we going?” He demanded, sounding a little alarmed.

“I’ve no idea,” Chris admitted and squeezed Neil’s arm reassuringly. “Away from the chaos in there, basically. Some place where we can have a bit of privacy.”

Neil stared at him, then at Chris’ hand still resting on his arm and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“But where to?” Chris muttered to himself and glanced around. The cloakroom was out of the question as people were coming out of it and looked at them curiously as they passed.

“Did you happen to spot the toilets?” He asked Neil, who promptly turned a bright shade of red but answered anyway: “Yes, right over there. Behind that staircase. Why?”

“Because it’s still way too public here if you ask me. Now come on,” Chris urged Neil, once more dragging him along, this time by grabbing hold of his hand.

There was only one room behind the door labelled toilets and it was totally deserted. Even the lights were switched off. Chris made sure that Neil had followed him inside and then closed the door. He breathed a sigh of relieve and looked around. There wasn’t much to see in the weak light that fell through a small dirty window at the other end of the room. Underneath it was a row of water basins and mirrors and to their right the wall was lined with cubicles with their doors left ajar. It was quiet in there and the drip, drip, drip from one of the tabs sounded impossibly loud.

Neil inhaled deeply. He felt like he was on the verge of passing out. He was hot, he was cold, he couldn’t breathe, and his heart was beating way too fast. “And too loudly, too,” he thought. “It’s a good thing the dripping’s so loud otherwise Chris might hear. Oh hell, was I really thinking that? Must be losing my mind.” Neil decided it had something to do with the fact that Chris still hadn’t let go of his hand and was turning around to face him again.

“Still not angry?” Chris asked in a soft voice. Nevertheless, his words echoed loudly around the empty room.

Again, Neil shook his head. “No.”

Chris smiled and studied Neil’s face expression for a moment. “Listen,” he began. “I know this here isn’t terribly romantic, but I think if we’d try to catch the next night bus and then go to either your or my place I might actually lose the nerve to do this…”

He let go of Neil’s hand and took a step closer. He was so close that his nose was almost touching Neil’s. He brushed a wayward strand of hair from Neil’s face and felt his own heartbeat pick up speed when his friend shuddered slightly and sucked in a deep breath.

When Neil’s eyelids fluttered shut, Chris leaned it and claimed his mouth for the second time that evening. One of his hands played with the hair at Neil’s neck while the other was half caressing, half holding on to Neil’s face. At first Neil just allowed himself to be kissed but gradually Chris felt the tension melt from his friend’s body and then Neil’s arms wrapped around him and hugged him close.

Goosebumps crept up Chris’s arms and down his spine and not because he was suddenly cold. He may have fantasized about kissing Neil an awful lot lately but not even in his wildest dreams had it felt anything like that: so passionate, feverish, electric, almost desperate.

Neil’s mouth tasted of cheap wine and he was eagerly following Chris’s lead and kissed back as enthusiastically and deeply as he was being kissed. At the back of his mind Chris was aware that he wanted more than just kissing. His hands were itching to release their hold of Neil’s neck and face and to wander down his shoulders instead and down his chest before slipping underneath the no doubt countless layers of clothing to explore his friend’s bare skin, but Chris didn’t dare to move for fear of pushing Neil too far and ruining everything.

He was getting hard quite rapidly and his erection was straining against the flimsy restrains of his underwear and boxer shorts already. He tried to move away a little, to put a bit of distance between his body and Neil’s. Just half a step backwards would do, the last thing he wanted was to intimidate Neil and a full-blown erection rubbing against the thigh of someone, who according to his own admission, had only limited experience with gay sex, might actually do the trick.

The more he struggled however, the tighter Neil’s arms wrapped around him, the more frantic their kiss seemed to get. And then, as he was wiggling his bum to get into a less compromising position, it suddenly occurred to Chris that Neil was actually just as hard and desperate for more as he was, even though the evidence was buried under more layers of clothes than his own.

Instead of trying to get away, Chris now pressed his body closer to Neil’s to test his little theory and was rewarded with an involuntary thrust of Neil’s hips and a moan that came from somewhere deep in his friend’s throat. As if burned, Neil pulled away from him and broke the kiss. He looked dazed but managed a careful grin.

“Bloody hell,” he panted. “I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

“We can stop if I’m moving too fast for you. You know that, don’t you Neil?”

Neil blinked but the smile he then smiled lit up his whole face. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not that. I… I don’t want to stop, I just…,” he hesitated, biting his lip.

“You what?” Chris encouraged gently, while thinking: “God, does he know how cute he looks when he’s doing this?”

“I just need to know,” Neil began again and then very slowly reached out to cup Chris’s chin and then carefully caressed his face. A shiver ran down Chris’s spine and he knew that it was caused by more than just his arousal. Neil’s voice has trailed off but after taking a deep breath, he tried again: “Just tell me you’re not fooling me. That…, that this means something.”

Now it was Chris’s turn to be speechless and to just stare at his friend in astonishment. He reached out, framing Neil’s face with his hands and drew him closer for another kiss. He tried to make it as gentle and tender as possible which proved to be quite a difficult task as he really was very turned on. A difficult task, but one surely worth the effort. Neil’s friendship was important to him and the guy meant so much to him on so many different levels that Chris just wanted to get this, whatever it was, absolutely right.

All the important things he didn’t know how to say and of which he himself wasn’t totally aware, he tried to communicate to Neil with that kiss. Apparently, Chris was successful in getting his message across, at least Neil mumbled: “I see,” before running his hands over Chris’s back and tugging at his T-shirt.

When his hands finally found Chris’s naked skin, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop anymore. It felt so good to feel Chris’s body underneath his careful touch, to actually being touched by Chris and not just to conjure up pale imitations of the real thing in his mind, only to feel guilty and foolish in the morning. He was tired of feeling guilty, so bloody tired.

When Chris unzipped his hoodie and pushed up his T-shirt that train of thought quickly vanished from his mind. Chris’s hands felt surprisingly cool against his skin and he realized just how uncomfortably hot he’d been for most of the evening. He liked the way Chris explored his chest, alternating soft, fleeting touches of his fingertips with firm, demanding ones and the way Chris’s hot lips moved over his throat, along his chin and to that spot behind his ears that made him shudder and moan. He hadn’t even realized that their kiss had been broken.

Chris played with his nipples, pinching, and tweaking them until they were both hard and then kept teasing them with one hand, while his other moved slowly lower, down Neil’s chest, over his belly and then crept underneath the waistband of his pants. Chris let it rest there for a moment but continued to kiss and lick Neil’s throat.

Neil moaned and leaned into the touch. His head was spinning and not just because of the wine. A rush of excitement ran through his whole body that made him feel very much alive and very much in need of more. He thought he heard Chris chuckle as his knees got weak and he stumbled a little. Chris’ hands grabbed hold of him and kept him from losing his balance completely. Then Chris urged him to move backwards and manoeuvred them into the nearest cubical.

Neil only realized what Chris was doing when his back hit the cold plastic wall and the door was being kicked shut by his friend. He wanted to protest, to say that this wasn’t a particularly good idea because the walls were much too close for his liking. He wanted to tell Chris that he hated small, enclosed places, especially when they were dimly lit because they made him panic and feel like suffocating. He wanted to explain that he suffered from claustrophobia; he really did want to say all that.

All those thoughts were running through his mind but when Chris’ lips made contact with his own once more and Chris’ hands began tugging his pants down along with his boxers, Neil lost all ability to speak, to think, to even feel anything beyond the near desperate desire and the fierce passion Chris had inspired in him.

After some tugging and pulling, Chris had managed to free Neil’s erection which bounced up eagerly, demanding attention. It didn’t take Chris long to take Neil up on the unspoken plea and when a sweaty palm wrapped itself around his hard dick, it had Neil jump slightly.

“Oh God,” he moaned. “Oh yes. Oh God, yes, please…”

Chris was trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his throat by then and Neil could’ve sworn he felt his friend grin against the exposed skin of his neck. He was beyond caring if he appeared to be inexperienced or needy. Hell, he was both and Chris did not seem to mind. At least not judging by how feverish his free hand was running over Neil’s chest and shoulders and pulled at his shirt to expose more skin. Or the way Chris’ other hand was stroking his hard-on in that mind-numbingly slow fashion. Or the way Chris’s breath got increasingly laboured while his body was pressing closer and closer against Neil’s, hips thrusting forward, seeking friction.  
Neil found himself kissing every bit of exposed Chris he could reach, unwilling to lose contact with this firm, male body. His hands were roaming over Chris’ back, feeling the damp cloth of his T-shirt. When he managed to push the shirt up far enough to let his palms touch naked skin, he moaned again. Boy, it felt so good to be doing this for real, with Chris, to let go of all his insecurities and fear and just lose control. After a long moment for more heated kisses, Chris pulled away. His voice was a husky whisper in Neil’s ear and the hot breath that caressed his skin, made Neil shiver.

“Time to show me what you’ve learned so far.”

Seeing his friend frown in confusion, Chris grabbed Neil’s hand and with a wicked grin guided it downwards, over his chest, underneath the waistband of his boxers and towards his pubic hair. Neil froze for a second, looking a little panicky but when his fingertips made contact with Chris’ erection, his eyelids fluttered shut and he gasped.

Chris moaned when Neil began his exploration of his hard member and continued pumping Neil. He had his friend trembling in no time but didn’t have the heart or presence of mind to stop or even slow down. A vague regret was whispering at the back of his mind, that if he didn’t at least slow down, everything would be over far too soon. It was obvious that Neil wouldn’t last very much longer but then the thought of Neil coming because of what he was doing to him, pushed Chris considerably closer towards the edge.

Neil shuddered and it made Chris pull away. He staggered half a step backwards and nearly tripped because his boxers had slid down his legs and now pooled around his ankles. Neil frowned in disapproval when Chris stopped working his dick and shook his head, looking annoyed and startled.

Chris used the moment to catch his breath and clear his mind a little. He couldn’t believe just how turned on he was, after all him and Neil hadn’t really done anything outrageous. He grinned to himself. Neil looked totally messed up, which Chris found oddly touching. Maybe it was because his friend normally tried so hard to be as neat and in control of things as possible.

A heartbeat later, Neil opened his eyes and stared at Chris. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. His confusion and disappointment were obvious and even his blue eyes seemed to have frosted over.

Chris swallowed hard. Something hit him, something he had been totally unprepared for and he felt his heart skip the proverbial beat. The air had been knocked from his lungs and he suddenly knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that whatever was going on between him and Neil was something big, something important. Something more than friendship and attraction. Something that had the power to change both their lives. Something that might as well be love.

Chris swallowed hard again but didn’t look away. Instead, he reached out and framed Neil’s face with his hand and then placed a passionate kiss on his mouth. He heard Neil groan and felt him relax a little.

“Don’t worry,” Chris whispered. “You’ll be fine. I’ll take care of that.” He then grinned again and dropped down to his knees. His grin widened when he caught sight of Neil’s dick twitching slightly in anticipation. He licked his lips and then grabbed hold of Neil’s hips, practically pinning him against the wall. He began licking along the hard shaft of Neil’s dick as eagerly as a child might lick his ice cream.

Neil began to tremble almost at once which somehow thrilled Chris even more. He took his time licking along the shaft and then around Neil’s balls before sucking the head into his mouth. Flicking his tongue across the glans he tasted the slightly bitter taste of precum. It sent a shiver down Chris’s spine and made his own dick ache for attention. Right now, he ignored it though and focused his entire attention on pleasing Neil.

Chris hollowed out his cheeks and let Neil’s dick glide deeper and deeper into his mouth and down his throat before he began what he called the serious sucking. Neil was soon squirming above him but Chris kept him pinned to the wall. He bobbed his head back and forth and enjoyed the feel of that hot, hard member in his mouth.

Neil was muttering curses when he wasn’t moaning or gasping for air and only fell silent for brief moments. Chris could picture him biting his lip without even looking up. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled the scent of sex and sweat and shivered slightly. God, this was madness! He would’ve moaned but as his mouth was full the sound died in his throat. His sucking picked up speed and he encircled his own hard prick with one hand and began to pump it hard.

He felt Neil shudder once more and push his dick deeper into his mouth. Chris met his thrusts eagerly and took him in as deeply as he could. Neil’s fingers had woven itself into Chris’ hair and with not very gentle pulls urged him silently to suck harder, faster.

“Please, please, Chris,” Neil begged, and it sounded a little like a sob. “Oh fuck, please don’t…, don’t…”

Whatever Neil had been pleading for, it remained unspoken. Chris felt Neil’s body tensing, his back arching away from the wall. Hot sperm filled Chris’ mouth and even though he tried to swallow as much of it as he could, it was soon spilling out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. He didn’t let Neil’s dick slip out of his mouth though and kept on sucking it until it went limp under his ministrations and his own orgasm claimed him. More hot sperm spilled over his hand and landed on his belly.

Chris let himself fall forward a little so that he could rest is head against Neil’s belly. His skin felt hot, it was sticky and covered in sweat but that was okay. He was close to Neil and that was the only thing that mattered. For a long moment their worlds fused and became one that consisted of nothing but their loud, laboured breaths and the rising and falling of their chests.

When Neil was able to think again the first thing, he noticed was the heavy smell of sex that hung around them in the cool air inside the cubicle. It sent another little rush of excitement through him that made him shiver.

“Oh God, Chris,” he muttered. His head was still spinning from what had just happened and even more from the intensity of his emotions and for a few moments, while his heart was still racing, he felt insanely happy. Then he opened his eyes and it all vanished. The walls came rushing closer, threatening to crush him and the panic he had glimpsed when Chris had first manoeuvred him to the cubicle, hit him with full force. He found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move, to breathe.

Chris must’ve climbed back to his feet and was talking to him, at least Neil could see his mouth move but he wasn’t able to make sense of what his friend was saying. Shaking his head mutely all he could do was stare ahead but what he was seeing didn’t feel real, it was all too contorted by fear. Only one thought drummed its frantic rhythm into his head: “I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here….”

He tried to back away but as he was already with his back against the wall, all Neil managed was to bang his head. The sudden explosion of pain stirred him back into action and he managed to pull up his pants and straighten out his clothes a little. He had to get away, even if it broke his heart to run from Chris like that. He tried not to look at his friend as he pushed away from the wall and opened the door. He was stumbling more than rushing and the realisation made him feel stupid and weak. Finally, Chris’ voice cut through the fog of blind panic that was clouding his brain and it made him stop just outside the cubicle.

“Neil? What the fuck is up with you? Talk to me, come on, you can’t just piss off like that!”

Neil didn’t turn around; he didn’t even look over his shoulder. He didn’t want to see the anger and disappointment on Chris’ face. He felt crushed, totally worn out and so very tired. The panic was about to overwhelm him again and he was suddenly cold even though sweat was tickling down his spine and ran into his eyes. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately fighting to stay calm. Chris tried to turn him around by grabbing his shoulder, but Neil shrugged him off.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I have to go.” He ran the few yards across the room, then hesitated briefly at the door. He looked back then and saw Chris still standing inside the cubicle, staring right at him.

“Chris, I…,” he began but his voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper and then broke completely. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he should’ve said: how sorry he was, that his sudden departure had nothing to do with Chris or what had just happened, that he hoped Chris wouldn’t be too angry because…, because… Damn it, because he had just realized that he loved that guy! But he said nothing and just shook his head in defeat and hurried away.

Chris remained standing at the exact same spot for what felt like an eternity. He watched Neil walk away, watched the door fall shut. Listened to his footsteps and then the echo of the bang of the door falling shut fade and vanish. He simply couldn’t do anything else but stare at the spot where Neil had been, where that damn fool should still be. His brain refused to make sense of what had just happened, how what had felt so brilliant while it lasted had ended so awfully.

Why on earth had Neil just run off like that? Without saying a single world, without offering a single explanation? “I have to go,” Chris thought. “Was that all he had to say? Bloody idiot!”

He kicked the wall and regretted it immediately. Woollen socks really weren’t as forgiving as his trainers. Neil hadn’t even seemed angry or disgusted, he had just looked... What? Like a rabbit caught in the headlights? The more he thought about it, the less sense it all made. Chris ran a hand through his tousled hair and then, with a sigh, began straightening out his clothes. He took his time to clean away the tell-tale signs of what had happened just moments before and even washed his face. The water from the tabs was frightfully cold and made him shiver. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment, looking as confused and hurt as he felt and then shrugged his shoulders.

“No use hiding in here for much longer,” he reasoned. “The only way to find out what went wrong is to talk to Neil, so I better start looking for him.”

He squared his shoulders, stuck his tongue out at the nervous looking reflection in the mirror and marched out of the toilet and in search of answers. The hallway was nearly empty, a small group of heavily wrapped up young girls came out of the cloakroom and then filed out into the night, possibly waiting for a cab to pick them up and a couple was sharing a very heated kiss just behind the stairways. Seeing them made Chris grumble under his breath.

When he pushed open the door to the main room of the pub, the difficult bit started. The place was packed and even though the pillow fight had died down, Chris wasn’t able to make out much in the dim light. He walked around the room, staying close to the walls, craning his neck, going on tiptoes, and squinting into the hot air which hung full of smoke. Nothing by the time he’d made it back to the door, no sight of Neil – or Daniel and Ravi for that matter.

He started pushing through the crowd to have a look ‘round the bar and suddenly all the laughter and happy chatter got on his nerves immensely. Couldn’t everybody else be miserable when he was miserable? It would only be fair! When somebody whirled him around with a hard grip on his shoulder and for a second Chris feared it would be his admirer from university but then realized he had come face to face with a very furious looking Daniel.

He blinked and waited for a punch to land somewhere in his face, but none came. Daniel just glared at him and then let go, not without giving him a little shove backwards. Even though it made him stumble, Chris breathed a sigh of relieve and chanced a quick glance over Parkers shoulder. Ravi stood guard behind Neil’s friend. He looked weary and a little uncomfortable but said nothing. Chris then looked back at Daniel, who was still fixing him with an angry stare.

“Where’s Neil?” Chris asked.

“What do you mean? Where’s Neil?” Daniel exploded. “I was about to ask you that question! Where the hell have you been? What happened? What did you do to him? What…?”

“Daniel, Daniel, wait. Let me explain,” Chris was trying to be heard over Daniel’s ranting, but all his words seem to fall on deaf ears, so he took a deep breath and then shouted: “Parker, shut up! Damn it, I’ve no idea where Neil is! I hoped you could tell me where he went.”

Daniel stared him for another moment, then snapped his mouth shut and swallowed thickly. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I was just getting worried. What do you mean, you’ve no idea where Neil is? I saw you leave the room together. What happened? Where have you been?”

Chris winced and pulled a face and without looking at Daniel, admitted: “Well, I dragged him out of here, to, to…, you know, to have some privacy. We ended up in the restroom...” His voice trailed off and he felt his face heat up with a severe blush but then he looked up again and added defiantly: “Everything was fine at first, really! Only…afterwards, he suddenly runs off without saying a single bloody word! I didn’t do anything, at least nothing to hurt him. I… Damn it, he’s still my friend!”

Under any other circumstances Chris would have found Daniel’s incredulous face expression extremely funny but now he didn’t have a mind for teasing little Parker. He just wanted to find Neil and to sort this whole bloody mess out!

Daniel opened his mouth but then shut it again without saying anything. Then he closed his eyes, ran a hand over his face and shook his head slowly as if trying to wake up from a dream. When he looked at Chris again, his face was neutral but the nervous smile that played around his lips gave away his discomfort.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “I don’t think I want to hear any details. But I’m not stupid, I can read between the lines.” He glared at Chris again but then nodded slowly and sighed. “You really are worried about him, aren’t you?”

Chris just nodded and Daniel sighed again. He forced a smile and leaned closer so that only Chris was able to hear what he said next: “I wasn’t about to stick my nose into this, but I know that Neil cares about you, Chris. A lot if you know what I’m saying. Better don’t mess up or you’ll be in trouble!”

Chris stared at the young man in front of him, not quite believing that he was being threatened by this bloke. Somehow the idea didn’t seem to be as ridiculous as he would have thought only hours ago, Parker’s voice was hard, his face expression stern and he really looked like he meant every word he’d said.

“Listen, Danny,” Chris began a little irritably. “I’ve no intention of messing up. I just wanna find Neil. I’ve no bloody idea why he just ran off and all I wanna do is talk to him. Hell, I don’t even know if I owe him an apology or not!”

Daniel seemed to think hard for a moment, weighing options and then bluntly asked: “Did you drag him into a toilet cubicle?”

Chris felt his cheeks burn red once again. “Yes, not that it’s any of your business, Parker. Besides, what has this to do with anything?”

“Possibly everything,” Daniel snapped back. “Considering the fact that Neil’s claustrophobic.”

Again, Chris could just stare at Neil’s friend and then punched his palm with his fist. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t he say? How was I supposed to know?” When Daniel just shrugged his shoulders, Chris went on: “So you reckon he just left to get some air? Anyway, let’s have a look around here first, just to be certain. Can you guys have a look around the room and I’ll check the bar and we all meet at the cloakroom in a few minutes?”

Daniel nodded and dragged Ravi with him. Apparently, he told his friend what he was supposed to do, because Chris saw them separate after just a few steps and then head into different directions. “Boy, that kid can be scary,” he muttered under his breath and then finally went over to the bar. He found the girl whom Neil had handed his glasses to and asked if he’d come back to reclaim them. Apparently, he hadn’t and when Chris asked if he could have them instead, the girl gave him a sceptical look.

“Listen,” Chris explained in a hurry. “I think he just went home because he wasn’t feeling too well when I last spoke to him but I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it if he could have his glasses back in the morning.”

The girl shot him another odd look but then produced Neil’s glasses from somewhere behind the counter and handed them to Chris. He muttered a quick “thanks” and then rushed to the cloakroom. The room was empty when he entered it and even though he had not really believed he would find Neil in there, still felt disappointed. He found his clothes and changed back into his jeans and jumper. When he kneeled to tie up his shoelaces, he spotted something lying in a dark corner. When he looked closer, he saw it was a set of keys attached to a little plastic Spiderman key ring.

“Oh no,” he muttered and picked it up. “Neil, you fucking idiot! Bad enough you ran off but real stupid of you to lose your bloody keys!”

He slipped the keys into the pocket of his jeans and put on his jacket when Daniel and Ravi came into the room. They looked concerned and at a loss what to do next.  
“No luck?”

They shook their heads.

“Same here,” Chris told them. “But I found Neil’s keys, so wherever he went, he’s got no way of getting into his flat!”

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Later Neil had no recollection of how he’d made it out of the pub. The next thing he clearly recalled was that he was sitting on the backseat of a nearly empty night bus staring out of the window into the rainy night. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm. He let go almost at once, though, as his jacket was soaking wet. He glanced down and realized that his jeans clung to his legs and that he hadn’t managed to tie up his laces. He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelieve. What on earth had he done?

He remembered going to that pub with Chris, meeting Daniel and his friend there, he remembered dancing and watching Chris, he remembered the pillow fight and then… Oh yes, he remembered the rest as well! He banged his palm against the window, suddenly angry with himself. Why had he had to panic in that situation? Why then? He had managed to keep his claustrophobia in check for several years now, had gradually trained himself to endure stepping into a lift or changing room or other such enclosed little spaces but no, he had to choose tonight to freak!

He buried his face in his hands and let out a long sigh. Chris must think him a total jerk now, running off without a word after… Dear God, had all of this really happened? Had Chris really kissed him? Had they really had sex in that damn small cubicle? Well, if blowjobs counted as sex, then yes, that was exactly what had happened. Oh boy!

Suddenly Neil’s head shot up and he stared at his reflection in the dark glass. He wasn’t wearing his glasses! Bloody hell! He searched through the pockets of his jacket and then his backpack but did not find them. He felt like banging his head against the window instead of just his palm. He’s really forgotten his glasses, just how stupid was that? Should he get out of the bus and go back to the pub to collect them from the girl behind the bar? But then he was likely to run into Chris again, wasn’t he? Neil sighed again; it possible wasn’t a good idea running into Chris just yet. After all Neil was convinced that Chris would be absolutely furious with him and he couldn’t even blame him for it.

“I’ll call him tomorrow morning,” he told himself. “Or as early as Chris is likely to get up after a night out.”

Chris… Even thinking about him hurt right now. What was he doing right now? Was he dancing with some other boy to forget about what had happened in the toilet? Was he maybe even snogging that bloke from university? Neil had to grind his teeth to keep his sudden anger in check and realized that he’d balled up both his hands into fists. He felt like kicking something or someone or at least like screaming insults at that idiot who’d been stalking Chris all evening.

Even though he was shivering slightly from the cold and the wet clothes which clung to his skin, he felt suddenly hot and leaned his forehead against the window. He closed his eyes and tried to get a grip. This was insane, he had no reason to be angry, he had run off, not Chris and still… Still the thought that Chris might be enjoying himself without him, that Chris might smile at someone else, drove him mad.

“You’re not angry, you’re jealous,” the voice that sounded like Daniel’s pointed out in his head and he didn’t like that realization one bit. Jealous! Fucking hell, this wasn’t some kind of soap opera, this was his life, damn it!  
Neil stayed on the bus, which had taken a longish detour into the opposite direction before going where Neil wanted to go, until it had reached Victory Coach Station and from there headed over to the underground station. It was still busy, even though the tube itself had been closed down at midnight. People were waiting for the trains or busses or simply tried to kill some time and to get warm inside the massive hall. The bright neon light felt surreal and Neil strolled around aimlessly, looking for somewhere where he could get something to drink, a hot cup of tea maybe and found a small and grubby looking sandwich shop at the far end near Wilton Road, which amazingly was still open. Even though the guy behind the counter wasn’t too friendly and the only other guests were drunken football fans trying to pick a fight, Neil managed to get his cup of tea.

He sat down at a small table as far away from the football lads as possible and tried to get warm by cradling the mug in his hands. This was wrong, so wrong. He wasn’t meant to sit in this lousy little sandwich shop at the dead of night, feeling sorry for himself. He should be with Chris, in one of their flats, sharing drinks, laughing, and maybe even kissing and making love. Neil just barely resisted the urge to hurl the mug of tea against the nearest wall, only to see it shatter and explode into a million little pieces. Instead, he sipped his drink, grateful for the warmth that it sent through him and then searched through his backpack again. He took out a little notebook and a pencil and leafed though it to find an empty page. This one was nearly full, he had to remember to buy a new one soon.

Neil hated it not to always have a notebook and pen with him. He hated it to not be able to jot down little ideas for songs which tended to pop into his mind at the most inconvenient moments, like during staff meetings or family dinners. He looked outside, through the dirty window, and saw a handful of men, all wearing overcoats hurry across the street. It made him laugh; they looked like out of a spy movie. Picking up his pencil, he stared into space for a moment, trying to focus his thoughts and then began to write:

“The city is quiet, too cold to walk alone/ Strangers in overcoats hurry on home/ Tonight I've been walking in the rain…” Then he added: “Give me one more chance, one more chance tonight.”

He stared at the lines he’d written and then snapped the little book shut and stuffed it back into his backpack. It was simply too much thinking about Chris now. Feeling very tired suddenly, he rubbed his eyes, emptied his mug of tea and got up. He had quite a bit of walking to do. No more busses going down to Sloan Square at this time of night.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Chris was waiting in Neil’s flat and felt like climbing the walls. He’d been here for less than an hour and still it felt like ages. After a little heated discussion with Daniel, it had been decided that Parker would go to his own flat in case Neil realized he had lost his keys and came there to spent the night on Danny’s battered old sofa while Chris was to let himself into Neil’s flat and wait there. All reasonable enough, Chris had to admit, but as the minutes ticked by and neither Neil appeared nor Parker phoned to inform him that the bloody idiot had arrived safe and sound, Chris found himself getting more and more restless.

Then suddenly he stopped his aimless wandering through Neil’s flat, feeling stupid and uncertain. “What if Neil decides to go to my flat instead of Daniel’s when he realised, he lost his bloody keys?” He asked the empty space around him and of course got no answer. He stood motionless for a while, thinking it over and then rushed over to Neil’s phone, muttering “Vicky,” under his breath.

Needless to say, that his sister wasn’t exactly very pleased to be woken up at 1.30h at night but after Chris had told her everything, her anger had evaporated, and she promised to call in case Neil showed up. When Chris hung up on her, he felt like he needed something to do to keep him from going completely bonkers. So, he went over to the living room and switched the lights on. Maybe Neil would spot it and realize that somebody was waiting for him in his flat. He also turned the radiator up as much as it would go and hoped that for once that bloody thing would work. If Neil had been walking around in the rain all that time he surely would be frozen to the bone.

In the kitchenette Chris put the kettle on and made himself a cup of tea and when it was ready brought it over to the living room and positioned himself in front of the window and watched the deserted street below. When he had emptied his cup some 15 minutes later there was still no Neil in sight. He stiffed a yawn and decided to wait on the sofa. Despite his worry and confused thoughts, Chris fell asleep nearly as soon as his head sank down onto the armrest.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Normally Neil didn’t mind going long distances on foot; if he had the time he enjoyed walking around a lot. He’s learned the geography of the metropolis quickly after he’d first moved there to study history in 1973. At first it had been out of necessarily, like most students he didn’t have much money and every penny he saved on bus fares and tube tickets meant he could spend it on records. But as Neil had got to know the city over time, he’d fallen in love with being out there on the streets, amidst the hustle and bustle, always watching and learning, soaking up the atmosphere. London wasn’t just one vast city; it was a haphazard collection of countless villages, each with a different feel and history, a different type of magic.

That night however, Neil didn’t care about history or magic. Rain was coming down heavily once more, at times mixed with hail and a cold, strong wind blew it directly into his face for most part of his way. His mood had reached an all-time low as he trudged on an on, down deserted high streets and dark alleys, taking short-cuts across parks and playgrounds. He cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella and almost wished himself back to that overheated pub.

By the time he had finally reached King’s Road, Neil was beyond cold and quite exhausted. His face and hands had gone numb and he was shaking badly. It didn’t help that his thoughts stubbornly returned to Chris and the events of the evening no matter what subject he picked to occupy his mind. Dread and regret had turned his stomach into stone and his heart began to hammer against his ribs in an unpleasant way whenever he thought about what he was supposed to tell Chris when he phoned him up later.

Relieve flooded through him though when he was at last climbing the few stairs leading up to his main door. Home, he was home! Only a few more steps to climb and that rollercoaster ride of a day would finally end! Neil sat his backpack down and searched for his keys. When he couldn’t find them in there, he felt the pockets of his jeans. Nothing. Desperation mixed with hysteria washed away his previous sense of relieve. With shaking hand, Neil turned every pocket of hiss jacket inside out but again he found nothing.

Tears of frustration burned in his eyes, blurring his vision further. Neil wiped at his eyes angrily and forced himself to take a few deep breaths to calm down. He snatched up his backpack, turned it upside down and shook its contents out onto the wet concrete of the stairs. Frantically he searched through the small pile, putting item after item back into the backpack. He found old ball pens, half empty packages of chewing gum and an old paperback novel but not his keys. His clothes form the pyjama party went back into the backpack as well and then Neil sank down onto the stairs next to it. He bowed his head, burying his face in his hands and let the rain fall on him. It didn’t matter anymore anyway; he could hardly get anymore wet or uncomfortable or cold. After a long moment Neil got back on his feet.

“What shall I do now?” He wondered.

Chris’ flat was closest but somehow Neil didn’t think he’d be able to stand his friends mockery just yet and besides, there was the not unlikely possibility that Chris was even home yet.

“If he’s hanging out with this bloke from university, I’m going to kill them both,” he thought.

Somehow it was easier to be angry because without the resentment he would be left feeling lonely and betrayed. So, if he ruled out going to Chris for help, his only option left was making to Parker’s place somehow. Neil swung his backpack back onto his shoulder and slowly went down the few steps. When he’d reached the pavement, he stopped and looked longingly up at his flat.

His jaw dropped when he saw that the lights were on behind all the windows facing the street. Neil stared up at the brightly lit squares above his head and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. The lights had been switched off when he’d left his flat with Chris in tow, he was certain of it. And now they were all on and that could only mean that somebody had found his keys and was waiting for him up there! He didn’t have to spend another hour or two walking through the rain and darkness to get to Daniel’s flat. He’d be warm in a minute! Neil jogged up the few stairs, grinning.

“Thanks, Danny,” he muttered as he rang the bell. “You can nag me about this one for as long as you want, I don’t care!”

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Chris was woken from his obscure dreams featuring Neil, a labyrinth of small rooms and nosey friends by the insistent ringing of the doorbell. He nearly fell off the sofa and experienced a moment of panic when he realized he wasn’t in his own flat. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around and then recognized the place. It was Neil’s and it seemed that the man himself had finally made his way back home as well. Thinking about Neil made him grin. Who would’ve thought that the old geek was such an eager kisser?

Chris hurried to the door and pressed the buzzer. He had left the main door unlocked when he’d come in earlier. It was too late – or too early, depending how you looked at it – to be climbing stairs unnecessarily. The lights in the corridor flashed to life and then Chris could hear quick footsteps making their way upstairs. He waited behind the half-opened door, arms resolutely folded over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently. When Neil had reached the door, he pulled it open and snapped: “About time!”

Neil froze in mid-motion when he realized it was Chris and not Daniel who had opened the door. He paled even further which made his lips look an alarming shade of blue and for a moment just stared at Chris. “It’s you,” he finally managed to mutter.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Of course, it’s me. Whom did you expect? Father Christmas?”

When Neil still didn’t move, Chris grabbed his arm and pulled him inside none too gently. He let the door fall shut behind them and then turned to Neil, immediately bombarding his chest and shoulders with little punches.

“What the hell were you thinking? Running off like that? Didn’t it cross your mind that we might worry? Fool! Fool! Bloody fool!”

At first Neil just let Chris hit him. There wasn’t much force behind his punches anyway but then he seized Chris’ wrists and held them fast. The incredulous look on his friend’s face made him laugh in spite of everything.

“Glad to see you, too,” he remarked dryly and realized that he meant it. All the dread had vanished; it simply was good to see Chris. It didn’t matter that he seemed to be furious about his little stunt, at least it meant that Chris still cared.

Chris continued to glare at Neil and then yanked his writs out of Neil’s grip. “Cheeky prat,” he muttered. “Give you one thing, though: you’ve got nerve.”

With that he turned on his heel and marched off to the kitchenette where he put the kettle back on to prepare more tea. Neil followed a little reluctantly. He watched Chris from the door, leaning heavily against the frame. He was glad about the support, his limbs seemed to weigh a ton and his eyes were itchy from tiredness. When Chris didn’t speak, Neil sighed softly.

“Hey Chris,” he called out. “Can you stop that for a moment? Please? We need to talk.”

Chris whirled around. “No, we don’t”

“Pardon? Neil felt the little statement like a slap.

“I said: No, we don’t. Meaning there’s nothing to discuss.” Chris stalked over to where Neil was standing and then stopped an arm’s length in front of him, hands on his hips, glaring once more. Chris’ face expression reminded Neil of his mother, which was both a truly hilarious and frightening thought.

“Besides, what are you still doing here?” Chris continued. “Get the hell out of those clothes of yours; you look like they just fished you out of the Thames. Go, take a shower, I’m making tea.”

Neil didn’t move and locked eyes with his friend. “Just tell me why we have nothing to discuss,” he pleaded wearily.

Chris threw his hands in the air. “Because you need to get warm, you idiot. Because I already know why you ran off. Panic induced by claustrophobia. Big deal! Not that I wouldn’t like to kick your Geordie ass for being so thoughtless but it’s alright. You’re excused.”

“What?” Neil asked lamely. He had been so certain Chris would be livid and mad at him that this casual dismissal of the whole subject unsettled him much more than an angry outbreak would’ve have done.

Chris finally took pity on Neil and smiled at him. “Danny told me,” he explained. “I hit upon your keys and when you were nowhere to be found in that pub, we decided to go home and wait for you. So, off you go. Take that shower. And I’ll phone Parker and tell him that you’re home. Not dry but home at last. Have to phone Vicky as well, you’ve got everybody worrying about you.”

Still Neil didn’t move even though he was shivering quite badly, and his teeth were now clattering when he tried to speak: “So you’re not angry?”

“For Heaven’s sake,” Chris cursed. “We are being a bit think tonight, are we, Tennant?

Before Neil could answer, Chris stepped forward and kissed him quickly on the mouth. When he withdrew, he couldn’t help but smirk at Neil’s stunned face expression but turned serious again when he saw him tremble.  
“Go,” Chris ordered softly and manoeuvred Neil in the direction of the bathroom. “Get out of your clothes, take a shower and then off to bed with you!”

“Yes, Mum,” Neil replied with a weak grin and then added in a stage whisper: “But I’m feeling warmer already.”

Chris poked his tongue out and rolled his eyes in mock disgust. “Don’t go all romantic on me.”

Neil laughed but then decided to follow Chris’ instruction. He really was freezing as hell. He only emerged from the shower when he’d run out of hot water and had managed to turn his bathroom into a hothouse in which the air hung full of steam. “Doesn’t matter if it obscures the view,” he mused. “I’m half blind without my glasses anyway.” He yawned widely as he dried himself and wondered if he should call out for Chris to hand him some clothes to sleep in or if he should hop over to his bedroom wrapped up in a towel instead.

When he spotted a pile of clothes on top of the windowsill, he had to grin. Chris was being thoughtful? How cute! He had even added a T-shirt, a pair of socks and the glasses he’d thought he’d left behind in that pub to the pile.

Neil yawned again and hurried to get dressed. Despite the hot shower he was still cold and shivering slightly. Still, it felt good to be home, to be wearing dry clothes and, best of all, not to be alone. He couldn’t stop yawning as he made his way to the living room but found it deserted.

“In here,” Chris’ voice informed him, and Neil frowned slightly. It had sounded like Chris was in his bedroom and Neil did not quite know how that made him feel. Normally he hated to have his privacy invaded like that but after what had happened between him and Chris it was possibly foolish of him to be worrying about privacy.

He found Chris sitting on the floor, legs crossed Indian style, going through his record collection. Two steaming mugs of tea had been placed on the floor next to him and when Neil went past Chris and sat down on his bed, Chris handed one to him. Neil accepted it gratefully, pulled his knees up and leaned against the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing? “Chris started lecturing him. “Get underneath the covers or do you enjoy being cold?”

“Not really,” Neil replied and dutifully wrapped the duvet tightly around himself. “Didn’t know you can be such a mother hen, though.”

Chris made a rude gesture and climbed back to his feet. “Oh shut up, Tennant, or I’ll confiscate your blanket.”

When Neil didn’t reply and just grinned and sipped his tea, Chris looked down at him, arms once again crossed in front of his chest.

“Can I borrow some clothes to sleep in?”

Neil nearly choked on his tea but nodded his agreement. “Sure you can. There’s a sweater in the drawer over there and some pyjama pants in the cupboard, somewhere at the bottom. But why don’t you just go home?”

Chris went in search of the requested items and let the question hang in the air. Then he stripped out of his clothes, tossing them aside carelessly and put Neil’s clothes on. They were a little too big so that he had to roll up the sleeves.

“Because,” he finally began and emptied his cup of tea. “Because I’d rather stay here. Now move over.”

“What do you mean? Move over? “Neil asked, looking puzzled. “There’s plenty of space for you to sit next to me.”

Chris giggled, took Neil’s empty mug, and then switched the lights off. “The cold must’ve done some severe damage to your brain. Shame, you’re normally such a bright lad.” He took the blanket from Neil. “Lay down.”

Neil hesitated for a moment and actually looked embarrassed as he slid down underneath the cover next to Chris.  
“You know I’m doing this for purely medical reasons, do you?” Chris teased. Neil smiled and nodded. “Are there other reasons?”

“Right,” Chris sounded smug. “Now turn around and snuggle close.”

Neil did as he’d been told but tried to keep a bit of distance.

“Don’t be shy,” Chris scolded and pulled him closer and then wrapped an arm around his chest. Neil tried to suppress a moan and tensed involuntarily.

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“But why? You’ve not been single for that long.”

“No, but girls are different.”

“I can always stuff some socks underneath my shirt to fake boobs if that makes you feel better,” Chris offered.

The comment made Neil giggle and he relaxed and found that he actually quite liked the feel of Chris’ firm body behind him.

“No need for that,” he muttered. “I’m quite content with what you’ve got.”

Chris chuckled and gave him a gentle squeeze. “That was the correct answer. Sleep tight.”

“You, too,” Neil mumbled and then was fast asleep not even a minute later.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

Neil only awoke because one of his arms had gone numb during the night and was now coming back to life painfully. He winced slightly and tried to move into a more comfortable position but then realized there was a body behind, and an arm wrapped loosely around his chest. He stared at the hand resting against his chest and then smiled.

“Chris,” he whispered into the grey twilight of his bedroom and was secretly glad that Chris was still deep asleep and thus had not heard him. Even though he’d just said one little word, his voice had sounded shaky and overawed. Carefully, as not to wake Chris, he lifted Chris’ arm and rolled onto his back and did not move until the needles in his arms had died down.

Staring at the ceiling, Neil just couldn’t stop grinning. He couldn’t even begin to put into words to describe how he was feeling. The only worlds he could think of which at least came close were old-fashioned and vaguely pretentious: magnificent, marvellous, splendid… Okay, his joints were aching, he had a sore throat and a headache but that didn’t matter. He still felt better and more at peace than he had in a long time.

After a while he rolled onto his other side to study Chris. God, it was unbelievably just how cute and young Chris looked when he was asleep. So utterly relaxed, open, and just so damn kissable. Neil reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Chris’ forehead and wondered if guys were supposed to feel that way about each other.

Neil stifled a sigh and mentally shrugged his shoulders. He wouldn’t let his insecurities ruin whatever he suddenly had with Chris. Actually, he didn’t give a damn what guys were supposed to feel, all he cared about was what he was feeling and this time he wasn’t going to run, he was going to be true to himself. Chris could either take him like he was or leave him but somehow, judging by anything Chris had done for him lately, Neil had the impression that he was not going to be dismissed.

He continued watching Chris for a while longer, hoping listening to his friend’s deep, even breaths would lure him back to sleep but he was wide awake now, buzzing with nervous energy and excitement. Sitting up as silently as he could, Neil climbed out of the bed. He paused in front of it, holding his breath, fearing he’d managed to wake Chris up. His friend stirred, rolled onto his belly, and then started to snore. Neil laughed softly, then tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

He stretched as he walked, rolling his head back and forth, trying to loosen the kinks in his back. When he entered the living room, he spotted Chris’ bag in one corner. It looked good in that spot, Neil decided, like it belonged there.

Suddenly an idea popped up in his head and he set out in search of his backpack. He found it next to the main door where he’d dropped it last night and fished the notebook out from the mess inside. Then he went to fetch the portable cassette player from the bathroom, found his headphones and the tape Chris had given for Christmas and settled down on the sofa.

He wrapped a blanket tightly around himself, made himself comfortable, plugged in his headphones and then rewound the tape. When the recording started, Neil closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the music wash over him. Right now, he wasn’t paying attention to chord changes, tempo or structure; he just tried to soak up the atmosphere. Neil wanted to get a clear understanding of the emotion the music would mange to evoke in him and then see if Chris had intended for it to be received this way.

The melody started slowly, picked up speed during what would to become the chorus and then build up to a frantic crescendo at the end. Neil listened fixedly, once again astonished by the sophistication of the piece and the understatement with which Chris had so far commented on his work. His friend had just shrugged his shoulder and had even looked somewhat embarrassed when Neil had first told him how much he’d loved his Christmas present. “Just something I came up at the dead of night, nothing special” Chris had muttered.

“At dead of night…,” Neil thought while rewinding the tape once more and tried not to let the connotations that phrase held for him cloud his assessment of the music. Again, he listened and then a third and forth time. He ended up feeling a little tearful and stirred up and knew that if he was able to match the intensity of the music with his words then they had managed to create something remarkable.

After the recording had ended for the fifth time, Neil just sat there, listening to the white noise of the empty tape, struggling to put into words what he was feeling, what the music had made him feel. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again and reached for his notebook. Scribbling down notes fast, as not to lose his train of thoughts, he ended up filling nearly half a page.

“Beginning:,” he’d written, “haunting, reflective, sad. Elegy. Regret. Chorus: turmoil, despair. End: undercurrent of anger and resentment. All: longing, loss ,wistfulness.”

Neil stared at the notes he’s made, all the while hearing Chris’ voice in his head speaking the phrase at dead of night. Something about that phrase resounded with something deed inside of him but he couldn’t quite work out what exactly that was.

He let his thoughts wander while he listened to the same recording over and over once more and ended up thinking about all the nights he had spent tossing and turning in his bed with Chris on his mind, torn between hope and despair. About last night and how he’d felt about Chris’ admirer. His totally illogical dislike of that bloke and the sharp stab of pain and rage he’d experienced just imaging that Chris was hanging out with someone else. About how lonely he’d felt sitting in that sandwich shop. About the hopelessness, the jealously…

“Jealousy!” Neil exclaimed and sat up straighter. “That’s it! This song is Jealousy!”

Once more he rewound the tape and listened, this time paying close attention to the flow of the melody, its rises and breaks and the underlying rhythm. Soon he was jotting down notes again, stopping and rewinding the tape repeatedly to match his lyrics with the music.

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

When Chris woke up, he was cold. Somehow, he must’ve managed to kick the blanket out of the bed. He blinked, irritated, and tried to make sense of his surroundings and why he was wearing Neil’s clothes. Suddenly he grinned and jumped out of bed.

“Neil,” he muttered to himself. “Bloody hell, who’d have thought…? Where on earth is he anyway?”

Chris padded over to the bathroom to relieve his bladder and when went looking for his friend. He found Neil on the sofa in the living room, headphones on, scribbling away into that infamous notebook of his. Chris stopped and watched him from a distance for a moment. Neil was totally absorbed in whatever he was doing and was oblivious to his surroundings.

Chris tiptoed closer, stood behind the sofa, peeking over Neil’s shoulder to get a glimpse of what he was writing but had no luck. Neil’s handwriting really was appalling. When he tapped Neil on the shoulder, he gave him quite a start. It made him grin. Oh yeah, he liked getting under Neil’s skin. He grinned more deviously. He liked getting under Neil’s clothes even more.

“Chris,” Neil grumbled and shot him a murderous look but then grinned as well. “Hi there,” he beamed and took off his headphones. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Chris threw himself onto the sofa next to Neil and kissed him on the cheek. Neil kissed him back, but Chris could tell that Neil’s mind was elsewhere.

“Good that you’re up,” Neil told him. “I’ve got something to show you. That piece of music you gave me…At dead of night… I’ve been listening to it all morning. I tried to figure out what it should be about and I wrote things….You know, what it made me feel, what I associated with the melody. Here,” he flipped back a few pages in his notebook and held it out for Chris to take. “Have a look at this and tell me if that’s what you had in mind.”

Chris couldn’t stop smiling; Neil was too adorable when he was like that: all on fire about something, usually his music. Chris had to shake himself out of his musings when he realized that Neil was waiting for a reaction from him.

“Chris?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I heard you, let me see.” He took the notebook from Neil and read through his notes. It made him feel strange that Neil had spent so much time analysing his little piece of music. Truth be told, he had never given much detailed thought to the things he’d composed, there had never been a concept or even a conscious decision what he wanted to write about. When he composed things, Chris usually just followed his gut instinct. He swallowed thickly, feeling strangely touched and impressed. “Hadn’t thought about it like that,” he admitted. “But you’re right, I guess. It could be about all that.”

“Brilliant!” Neil smiled brightly and took the book from Chris. “I worked out what the song should be about. No, wait, that’s wrong. What I think the song already expressed. I think it’s all about laying awake at night, wondering where your partner is and if he… or she is with someone else. Wondering if you’re being betrayed and wanting him back, nevertheless. What I’m saying is, I think the music talks about jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” Chris repeated. “It sure does make a better title than Turmoil.”

Neil smacked the book down on Chris’ head lightly and did his best to look annoyed but his eyed hadn’t lost the smile. “Don’t you take anything seriously?”

“But I was being serious,” Chris protested. “Honestly! Turmoil is such a dreadful word, doesn’t even sound nice.”

“Git,” Neil scolded. He leafed through his book again and then looked down at one page, suddenly nervous. “I…,” he began again. “I’ve written some lyrics. Well, I’ve just begun, they’re not finished, and I’ll have to go over them again to, you know, to smooth things out but…” He took a deep breath and faced Chris directly. “Would you want to hear them?”

“Sure,” Chris nodded. Neil’s enthusiasm could be contagious, and he found he was also getting thrilled. “If your handwriting wasn’t so poor, I could actually read them myself but go ahead, read them to me.”

“No, I don’t want to read…I meant…I’ll just sing them to you, okay?”

Chris blinked and studied Neil for a moment. Had he just said sing them to you? “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I mean, wow, yes, please do.”

Avoiding looking at Chris, Neil took the cassette player, unplugged his headphones, and rewound the tape. He hesitated for a moment, took another deep breath, and then pressed play.

The music started again, loud this time and when the first few bars were over Neil began to sing softly: “’At dead of night when strangers roam the streets in search of anyone to take them home, I lay alone, the clock strikes three…’ There’s a bit missing now,” he hurried to explain before launching into the chorus: “’Where’ve you been? Whom have you seen? You didn’t phone when you said you would. Do you lie? Do you try to keep in touch? You know you should. I’ve tried to see your point of view but couldn’t hear of see for jealousy…’”

Neil’s voice was shaky and a little hoarse, his timing wasn’t perfect and at times he’d even been singing flat but still it sounded as if this could sound good, special even. If he put a lot of work, a lot of practise and effort in. “Or maybe find another singer,” Neil thought. He had always been his harshest critic and still wasn’t totally convinced he’d ever be good enough. And still… Still, he’d rather die trying and failing than not having tried at all.

Neil sang the chorus again and that seemed to snap Chris out of a daze. He shook his head, then looked straight at Neil, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable and foolish as the silence, which seemed even louder because Chris’ music was still playing, stretched between them. He shook his head once more and then reached out and switched the music off.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Wow, you’re good!”

Now Neil shook his head vehemently. “No, I’m not. I’m a mediocre singer at best and when I’m nervous I’m really terrible and…”

Chris rolled his eyes, then grabbed Neil’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Shut up. It’s not important that you’re not the world’s best singer. None of your singer-songwriter heroes is and that bloke from Soft Cell isn’t either. We’re all just amateurs but that’s the good thing. Besides, you have that gift, your way with words. What you’ve written… It fits, it really does, and you didn’t end up sounding corny and that’s pretty cool!”

Neil had just looked at Chris bewildered at first but then pleased with Chris’ enthusiastic outburst. The spark had flown and ignited a fire. Neil smiled. Until then he hadn’t been certain just how seriously Chris took the whole ‘let’s write songs together’ thing but now he was convinced that both of them were in it with all their hearts.

“We’ll have to get a better recorder and a microphone then,” Neil finally managed to say. Chris chuckled and let go of Neil’s shoulders. Leaning back, he folded his arms in front of his chest and eyed Neil like he wanted to challenge him to something. “Okay, boss,” he grinned. “But somehow I’d hoped this morning would go differently. With less work,” he added with a pout.

“What do you mean?” Neil tilted his head slightly. “Are you talking about breakfast? We can some now if you like.”

“No, it’s not about breakfast. “Chris sighed theatrically. “Play before work, that’s my motto.” When Neil just gave him an uncomprehending look, Chris asked: “Ever heard of morning glory?”

Neil didn’t answer right away but the blush that crept into his cheeks spoke volumes. Chris giggled and winked at his friend.

“Morning glory? Of course, I’ve heard… You don’t mean…? Oh! Yes! Yes, I think I see your point.”

“Do you now?” Chris mused and leaned over, pushing Neil back against the backrest. He started placing small kisses on his mouth and smirked slightly when Neil’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Chris deepened the kiss and liked the fact that just poking his tongue into Neil’s mouth made him moan. Chris adjusted his position so that his body pressed against Neil’s and they were both lying on the sofa, legs intertwined, still kissing.

It surprised Chris a little that Neil had almost immediately slipped his hands underneath his sweater and was now eagerly exploring his chest and belly. He’d been prepared to take it slow and to provide all the necessary prompts but was more than pleased to find that Neil was obviously overcoming his initial shyness.

While Neil was playing with his nipples and ran a flat palm over the soft hair on his chest, Chris contented himself with combing his fingers though Neil’s messy curls and letting Neil take the lead. The longer they kissed, the bolder Neil got and soon his hands were wandering down and underneath the waistband of Chris’ pyjama pants. He struggled a little with Chris’ underpants and while he tried to pull it down with one hand, cupped Chris’ erection with the other.

Gasping for breath, Chris reluctantly broke the kiss and buckled his hips. Neil’s rapidly hardening dick was pressing against his thigh and made him moan softly. “You’re a quick study,” he mumbled and then started kissing Neil again. Neil grinned briefly before returning the kiss. He’d just succeeded to finally push Chris’ boxers down and closed his hand around Chris’s eagerly twitching cock when the doorbell rang.

At first both Neil and Chris did their best to ignore the noise but when it didn’t die down and instead kept ringing for what seemed like ages, Chris pulled away. “I think you should better get this.”

Neil got up, looking annoyed but then laughed it off. “Seems it isn’t the postman after all.” He gave Chris a meaningful look. “Do you have to be anywhere later today?” When Chris shook his head, Neil beamed. “Great, neither have I!”

He then went to answer the door, straightening out his clothes and running his hands though his unruly hair to tame it at least a little. Chris stayed behind, fixing his clothes as well. He smiled to himself and let out a soft whistle. “Boy, the bloke’s eager, Fine with me!”

When he heard voices in the corridor, he bounced over to investigate and found Daniel standing in front of an amused looking Neil. The young man held a big brown paper back close to his chest and wore a knowing face expression. Chris wondered if Neil felt as much like squirming as he did and chanced a quick glance at his friend but to his credit Neil looked as composed and calm as if Daniel’s visit had not interrupted a serious kissing session. “Or possibly more,” Chris mused darkly and then thought: “He should learn how to play poker.” Aloud he said: “Morning, Parker. What are you doing here?”

“Neil has just asked me the same thing,” Daniel answered with a sweet smile. “And I was telling him that I simply brought you guys breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Chris’ mood brightened at the mention of that magic word. “Sounds good but what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected treat?”

Daniel smiled that sugar-coated smile again. “Just thought you could need it. Can one of you make tea?” He grinned and marched off in the direction of the living room, leaving Neil and Chris standing there, looking at each other. They burst into giggles.

“Cheeky little teacher,” Chris muttered.

“Possibly got lucky with Ravi last night and now thinks he’s king of the castle,” Neil whispered back.

Chris laughed out loud. “You’re such a bitch sometimes. Don’t be too harsh on him; after all we got lucky, too. Didn’t we?”

Neil stopped walking. “Chris, wait,” he pleaded. “I… I have to tell you something.”

Chris looked at him intently and then gave the smallest nod. “No need,” he said. “I know. It’s quite a kick in the head, isn’t it?”

Neil frowned, not sure what to make of his friend’s strange words. “Kick in the head? What are you talking about?”

Chris hesitated for a moment before answering. When he did, all the playfulness had vanished, and he sounded as serious as Neil’d ever seen him.

“Love is. And yeah, it means that I love you, too. Assuming that’s what you wanted to tell me.”

Neil found he had to snap his mouth shut as it was hanging open. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them again and Chris was still standing in front of him, was still looking serious, Neil broke into a huge grin and drew Chris close in an impulsive hug. Chris returned it and for a long moment none of them moved. Neil buried his nose in Chris’ hair and just held him close so fiercely as if he was afraid, he would lose him again.

“Yes,” he finally muttered. “Yes, that’s indeed what I had wanted to tell you. How did you know?”

Chris gently freed himself and stepped back. His smile was soft, the sparkle in his hazel eyes kind and it made Neil feel all warm inside.

“If one knows how to read you, you’re an open book,” Chris told him and took his hand. “Come on, we shouldn’t leave Danny-boy alone with our breakfast for too long.”

Neil let himself be dragged along, feeling like he’d won the lottery. This was turning into the best day of his life!


End file.
